Savage Lands

Ashari walked in and out of days, passing like a shadow beneath the canopy of the high forest. As time passed she grew stronger, more inured to the heat and the constant rain, and every day she ate what she could find and was glad of it – berries, fruits, fungi, insects, lizards – whatever she could catch was her dinner. She chafed inside, remembering platters of rare meats and carefully roasted fruits, of delicacies and sweets. Again, she told herself, she would live like a queen again.

The mountains sloped downward for days, the rain slackening, the ground becoming harder and rockier. It was not long before she saw the red blaze of the sun through the thinning trees, and then she stepped forth from the shadow of the jungle and onto the edge of a seemingly endless grassland. Low mountains lay to the south, and ahead of her the land rose up and up in a series of gentle waves, fading into hazy distance studded with the towering boles of scattered trees.

She saw no sign of civilization, and yet she knew she was on the edge of the Thran kingdoms. It was said to be a decadent, dangerous place too far over the mountains and jungles for the reach of the empire to have ever fallen upon it. It was a place spoken of in stories, but she had never met anyone who had been here. If she traveled west far enough, she would come to the shores of the Sea of Azar, where ancient cities were said to cling to the coast like jewels beneath the nighted sky.

Almost nothing remained of her clothing, and she wore little more than the straps that held her weapons and the shining bronze-red of her bare skin. It did not concern her. She was a Sheda, who had once been a race of great and terrible warrior-kings and sorcerers. Hardship was forging her into something more like her ancestors, making her harder and tougher, grinding away weakness and leaving steel behind.

It was welcome to be out from beneath the wet, dripping jungle trees and into the open wilds. Anywhere there was water, huge, thick trees grew tall, and so she simply walked from one pool or stream to another, making sure to sleep well away from water, for she knew it would draw predators. For three days she saw nothing but a few birds, and on the third night, sleeping beneath a thorned bush, she was wakened by sounds in the dark.

She opened her eyes slowly, hearing the sounds again. Low, grunting sounds, and some gentle hoots. Something moved in the tall grass. Somethings. She heard more than one, and she realized they had circled her in. She smelled meat and knew she was being hunted.

Slowly, she reached over and gripped her sword, drew it out and clasped it ready in her hand. She moved quickly then, rolling over and springing to her feet, moving so the thorns of the low bush guarded her back. The night sky was clear, ten thousand stars stretched across the firmament in a great arch, and the broken moon low on the horizon. Her eyes saw clearly in the darkness, and she saw shadows in the grass circling closer.

They did not know she could see them, and so one moved into the open. It was like nothing she had seen before, a hulking creature that went on four legs but looked as though it could go on two if it wished. The limbs were long and spindly, the hands at the end tipped with long sickle-claws. The head and shoulders were surmounted by a great, shaggy mane, and the thing’s face was a long snout lined with dagger teeth. Eyes reflected the starlight in shards of red as the thing watched her, tail swishing side to side.

She tried to count, seeing at least five of them, all creeping slowly closer. They were each as big as she was, and probably stronger. If they sprang on her she might kill one, maybe two, before they dragged her down, or left her so maimed she would not last another day. Fighting them would mean her death, whether she won or lost.

Ashari resolved to fight them another way. They were a pack, and she reasoned that a pack might have a leader. She had to draw the leader out, and so when another one came in her view, she stood tall and stared at it, meeting that narrow gaze, and she gave forth her own series of low grunts and exhalations, imitating their sounds as best she could, only much louder.

The thing froze, then drew back and screeched at her, a hair-raising sound that split the darkness and made her flinch a little. The other creatures rose up from where they crouched in the high grass and shrieked in answer, and one of them stood on his hind legs and shook out his heavy mane, flashed long teeth in the moonlight. That one. Ashari faced him and met his stare, and she saw wrath tremble in every limb.

The thing came shuffling closer, reared on its hind legs, teeth bared and forelegs extended to unsheathe sickle talons. It huffed and growled and came closer and closer until it almost loomed over her, and one more shuffling advance and she would be within the grasp of those claws. Smiling, showing her own teeth, Ashari met those gleaming eyes and set her will upon this creature, the power that lived inside her, and she felt it do its work.

The beast slowed, and his breathing steadied, and she saw a pall come over his furious visage, smoothing it, until he dropped once more to all fours, sniffing at the grass in confusion, pawing at the soil. The other creatures screamed at him, but he turned on them and roared and they cringed away, enslaved by the habit of obedience. He turned back to her, and she sensed a mind within him – something keener and sharper than a dumb brute. Her power worked upon that mind, and the hunter of the dark came crawling forward and sniffed at her outstretched hand.

o0o

Guarded by her new pack, the way was much easier, and she no longer feared attack by night. The beasts kept out of sight during the day and moved more freely in the dark, so Ashari began to sleep by day in what shade she could find and move by night under the blazing stars and the drifting shards of the ancient moon. She plotted her course by the paths of falling stars, and soon enough she came in sight of ruins.

It was a place of the old ones, with nothing remaining save for rusting steel fingers thrust up from the grass like teeth. Vines and creepers had grown over what remained, and from a distance she saw the shapes of hide tents pitched in among the ruins. There were people here, and she wondered what manner they might be. She was far from home, and she knew nothing about what kind of men might dwell here in the wilds.

They were nomads, that much was plain by the tents and the tall, crested riding beasts that grazed in the shade of the towering trees. As she drew closer the animals lifted their heads and gave high, fluted warning cries, and she saw lights move among the tents as the inhabitants gathered to see what came for them. It was near dawn, and she watched to see what would come.

Riders clothed in long robes, faces covered with embroidered cloths, mounted their animals and came riding closer. They carried long lances with heads that glimmered like glass, and she noted they did not venture too far out into the grass. Her beasts huffed and growled and arched their backs, but she waved them back, stilled them with her glance, and then she went boldly across the open ground with empty hands.

A rider came closer, and Ashari watched the deadly-sharp lance, wondering if he would strike her, but he kept the point lowered and spoke to her in a tongue she did not know. She held her empty hands out and replied in the lilting speech used by traders, and she saw he knew it.

“”Ease,” she said. “I come with no harm in me.”

“Who are you that walks in the grass, surrounded by ingoda?” he said. “I see horns, and the hooves of a beast. Are you one of the ancients?”

“My race was called the Sheda,” she said. “It may be I am the last of them.”

“The flesh-eaters do not slay you. Are you devil?” The tip of his lance moved slightly.

“I am called Ashari, and I have certain powers. Yet I am no devil. I am a woman who has come far and seeks only shelter. What people are you?” She saw more riders gathering, and wondered that they feared the beasts called ingoda so much.

“We are the Horane,” he said. “We hunt these lands.” He looked at her, and she caught the glance of his pale eyes.

She touched him with her power and saw him waver in the saddle. “I would see your chieftain,” she said. “Your headman, whatever he is called. Please take me to him.”

“I will,” he said, his voice calm now. “I will take you to him.”

o0o

The red sun was rising as they led her into the camp. She saw the tents were set in a ring, with thornbushes lashed between them so there was no easy way through. It was a primitive defense, but would serve well enough against beasts. Now she saw the people, and they were strange to her. They had dark, smoky skin and very light eyes. They covered their hair, but what she saw was almost white. They looked at her with curiosity, and some fear.

They took her to the largest tent, and she gave over her sword without being asked. She would not find a place here with steel, she would need a more reliable weapon than that beside her. They led her to the tent and held the flap open for her, and she went inside.

It was dark, and the air was full of aromatic smoke. There was light from a fire and two small lanterns, and across from the entrance was a heap of hides and cushions, and there a very heavy man sat and watched her. He had faded, cloudy eyes and powerful arms scarred from many battles, and at his side was a short-bladed sword made from the same translucent, crystalline stuff as the spearpoints. He had a long beard and his hair was faded from white to a deep gray.

For a moment she thought he was blind, but his eyes moved to watch her as she came closer and then sat down. No one else entered behind her and she thought that was strange. But then, without sword or dagger they must believe her harmless.

“So, a devil comes from the wastelands,” he said in a deep voice. “I have not seen one of your kind since I was a boy. I had thought no more of your blood existed.”

Ashari felt a quickening in her heart. “You have seen one of my kind? I thought I was the last one of us. Where? When?”

He gestured vaguely. “In the city beside the sea. Irdru, they call it. I saw one there who ruled others with his mind. Do you have that power?”

She nodded. “I do, when I wish it.”

“I am Gama. I am chief here, and I am immune to such powers. My power is stronger than yours, so do not think to wield them against me.” He touched the hilt of his short sword, and he smiled at her.

“Indeed,” she said, setting her power upon him. “I can see that you are powerful.”

“I am,” he said. “I am. I fear nothing.” His mind lay open to her, ready for the imposition of her will.

“Nor should you,” she said. “You are too strong for me.”

o0o

Among the forty-plus people of the clan, Ashari’s movement across the savannah was much eased. She learned to ride the tall, long-necked beasts and to listen to their cries for warnings of danger. The chief was easy to influence, and she did not need to push him very hard. It helped that she asked for little but to accompany them, and the rest of them did as they were bidden by their leader.

She was able to wash and oil her skin, dress her hair, and polish horns and hooves both. They gave her clothing, the long robes and sweeping head coverings they all wore, and she gained a new belt for her sword and some knives to wear as well. She had food and water and a thick, honeyed liquor they made and swore by. To travel in such company, after weeks of wandering alone, was welcome.

They rode west, and she learned from the chief that they were on a long arc that would carry them through their hunting grounds and into the south as the dry season increased. There they would shelter in the deep river valleys until the rains came again. Many clans dwelled there in the steaming lowlands as the northlands burned sere in the summer heat, and the Horane people looked forward to this meeting with great eagerness. There would be celebrations of births and of deaths, and it would be the time for the young men and women to seek mates.

Before they turned south, they would pass near the coastline, and come within the boundaries of the Thran Kingdoms. There, she decided she would leave them and ride for the sea. The city of Irdru was there, they said, and it was ruled by one of her kind. There, she decided, she would seek a new fate.

They rode through greener fields, over rolling hills covered with deep grass that waved and rippled in the red sun like waves on a forbidden sea. Here and there the waste was studded with the rusted, faded ruins of the ancients, and she wondered what this land had been like in those lost days. So many stories were told of the old ones – that they flew through the sky and spoke through the air, that they lived hundreds of years and knew all sciences and all arts. They had lived in a perfect world before they destroyed one another and cracked the moon apart. She tried to imagine a war so great it could erase the memory of itself, and she could not.

She was riding ahead with some of the young hunters, scouting the path and enjoying the feeling of freedom, when she saw the dark smudge on the horizon, a low pall of smoke that lay creeping to the east, and she gestured to it. “The grass is burning,” she said.

One of the riders looked, and he swore an oath in his own speech she did not understand. She frowned. “What is it? Something to fear?”

“Raiders,” he said in the trade speech. “But they have a Mokol Dragon with them. It will not be easy to escape.”

“What is that?” she said.

“A thing that breathes fire,” he said, and he turned his steed back. “We must warn the clan, for death comes.”

Ashari felt a tickle in her mind, as if something touched her there, and she turned to look at the low cloud of smoke. “Go and warn them, then.”

He looked confused, held his steed back by force and stared at her. “What do you mean to do?”

She smiled, showing her teeth. “I will see what there is to see. Go.” She spurred her mount and set hand to her sword. “Go now.”

o0o

Ashari rode across the waving grass, smelling the smoke, seeing it hang like a cloud over the earth. Closer, she saw the line where the fire was etched in the grass, burning slow and sending up clouds of pale smoke as the half-dry grass burned and seared down to the soil. Her steed snorted and tossed its head, and she had to use a nudge of her power to keep it calm. It smelled something else besides the fire. Something dangerous.

Shadows moved in the smoke, and she saw riders coming. They sat on the same animals, saddles high front and back to give them support in battle. Their lances glittered in the hazy light, flashing red sparks in the red sun.

She cast back her head covering and rode to meet them, wondering if they would attack her on sight. For a moment she thought she might get close to them without being seen, but then one of them pointed, and three of them rode for her, spears held upright and ready to strike. They came faster, and then she saw the lances dip, lowering to come for her, and she had to act.

She drew her sword and rode to meet them, and she sent a wave of her power across them like an unseen wind. It could not do very much, but it made the beasts shy away and falter, and the men lost track of her for a moment, as if they could not see her clearly, and then she was among them.

Her first stroke took off a head clean and sudden, and it fell away as blood gouted from the neck. She caught the lance as it fell and then turned and drove her mount shoulder to shoulder with the next one. The rider tried to recover, but she chopped down into his shoulder and he gave a weak cry, fell from the saddle as she dragged the red blade free.

The last man thrust at her with his spear and she deflected the glittering point with the spear in her left hand. She struck with her sword but he danced his steed back out of reach. The beasts gave great, trumpeting sounds through their crests and pawed at one another, clawed at the earth to dig up great clumps of soil.

She brought the lance around, and they fenced spear against spear for a moment before she caught the haft against his body and shoved him from the saddle with her greater strength. He struggled to rise, but she rode over him and struck down, transfixing him through the chest with the glass-bladed spearpoint.

She heard cries and looked to see more men moving in the smoke – too many to defeat – but she still felt the tickle in her mind like she had so rarely before, and then something massive loomed in the haze. She saw tusks longer than a man’s body and felt the heavy tread of something huge upon the earth. Her steed screamed in fear and twisted, throwing her off to land hard in the grass among the men she had slain, and she heard a bellow of rage, and saw a flash of fire.

It came through the smoke, its footfalls shaking the ground beneath her. It had a massive, heavy head, plated with scales like armor, and a wide set of tusks that flared from the root of the jaw. Horns crowned it in a jagged crest, and a heavy, dirty beard hung below, sweeping the earth. Fire dripped from the immense jaws, setting the grasses on fire as it moved.

The raiders saw her in the path of the thing and called their war cries. They shook their spears to the heavens and shouted for her death. The thing called a Mokol Dragon came closer, fury burning in those small, yellow eyes as it lumbered toward her. She caught the gaze of one eye and held it, and then she was caught within a firmament of fire.

She felt the force of the thing, a mind that was not the mind of a beast, nor yet quite the mind of a man. It knew her and their minds locked against each other, and she felt it looking into her even as she looked into it.

“You are like me,” she said, and was not certain whether she spoke aloud or only in her mind. “What are you?”

The answers that came were not in words, and so it was not easy for her to understand them, and yet she did. The more she tried to make them into speech, the harder it was; she had to simply allow them, and feel them, and she knew. The dragon loomed over her, breathing smoke and dripping flame, and it knew her mind. She saw how the raiders used it, following it and killing the game it flushed from the high grass with its fire. They were faster than it could be, and so when it tried to chase them away, they scattered, only to return later. They hovered around it like a swarm of flies it could not be rid of.

Ashari smiled. “I can deal with them, if you will help me.”

The dragon saw into her mind, and then it lowered its heavy head. She climbed up onto one sweeping tusk, and then up over its spiked head to sit on its thick neck. The raiders were hanging back, uncertain what to do, even afraid. It seemed the dragon’s mind added to her own and made her stronger. She could sense things she had never been able to, and her reach was extended. She reached out to the nearest cluster of riders, and she closed her power on their minds so that they were confused and did not move. “Kill,” she said, and the dragon leaped.

It churned the earth with great strides and fell upon the raiders, crushing them to the ground, snapping bones and splitting flesh. The great jaws snapped and blood spattered the grass. Ashari turned her attention to the next gathering of riders and held them prisoned for the moments it took for her new steed to close the distance. Men screamed as they were trampled under, broken, and slaughtered.

The rest of the raiders screamed and fled, their courage broken. The dragon roared after them, spat fire across the earth, and then bent to devour the men and beasts it had slain. Contentment washed over her from that strange, bestial mind, and she stroked the heavy scales and smiled. “You should come with me. I can be certain such as those never trouble you again.”

The question formed in her mind, a look across the vistas of grassland and hills. It wanted to know where she was going, and she laughed. She glanced to the west, where beyond her sight the city of Irdru dreamed beside the Sea of Azar. “Such a place as you have never seen, where you shall find prey worthy of your tusks.” She saw movement and saw the clan riders approaching, a glittering wave of spears ready for a desperate defense.

Ashari raised her hand and waved to them, calming them with a touch of her mind. She would ride to this city like a queen, escorted by warriors and astride a beast out of legends. She looked up to the red sun and she laughed again. Fate would lead her to the hour appointed for her triumph.