He knew what he needed to know, even in the haze of animal instinct now overtaking him; there were talismans in his lands again, even if it was just this one. The foolish one known as the Dragon King had not rid the world entirely. That was something worth killing for.
Moments later, he and his brothers were gone.
Chapter 21
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Tower of Crystal, Sea of Blood
The prospects were terrible for the small group left in the Paieleh River Valley. Of the twenty-one travelers, twenty-three military Riders and three from Tan Torna Qu-’ay, as well as the four large carts and the giant Turtle loader that had left Huan, very little remained after the Stalker attack.
The Riders had lost more than half their numbers and mounts, leaving only eleven including Chief Rider Wyndam who had suffered what was likely to be a fatal injury at the claws of Skerd. For now, he was being carried in an open spot in the back of the Turtle, but to all it seemed a matter of ‘when’ not ‘if’ he was lost.
Another cart was lost, bringing them to the lonely number of one, with four folmes and one ragged horse remaining of the travelers’ stock, and nine warhorses for the Riders. The people who had chosen to undertake this trip were not as bad off as the Riders who had taken the front lines of defense during the attack, but the toll was still damaging. Four dead, and Seraphina’s father had been badly injured as well. She had separated herself from Johan for the time being to tend to her father and likely to take stock of her feelings towards him. It was no secret many thought he should never have made a deal since he seemed to have an advantage on the monster.
The aftermath was gruesome and frightening. Blood and destruction were at every turn. But mankind is terribly resilient, and when you’re still short days of anything in the world that could save you and your loved ones, pinned down in a dangerous and deep river valley with little supplies and less hope, there’s nothing else to do but pick up and go or lie down and die. Since the ground was already littered with the signs of many who had met that finality, pick up and prepare to set off again they did. By daybreak the following day, the battered Turtle led the charge once more, followed by a now heavily overloaded cart pulled by four terrified and injured animals; all others on foot, no space left to carry them and what they needed to survive.
Canned food was all that was left to eat, which was for the best as they no longer had enough supplies to build a fire to cook by. The next few days were going to be tight and likely very hungry. No one complained, though. They did what they must.
On the road once more, the group no longer spared a thought for where their place was, even the Riders. Each did what needed to be done at the time it needed to be done with no questions. Riders surrendered their mounts to weary travelers, and the travelers were thankful for it. Rank and social standing meant little to this group now. Putting one foot in front of the other was all that mattered. Each step took them closer to a faint hope of salvation and farther away from the rock-covered graves behind them.
The two from Tan Torna Qu-ay went together now, hatred set aside in the wake of their newest shared experiences. They weren’t likely to spend holidays or free time together, but for the sake of the journey and their shared pain of the last few weeks, they had more than enough in themselves to be civil.
When Esgona did join Johan in free time, he was still his quiet self. He understood this was all of the acceptance he was ever going to get. One night, Johan finally asked him about things he’d seen in the south, and during that time of conversation, he told Johan about the knife and the things he’d seen in it, the feelings it conjured and the thoughts it evoked. Johan listened, not sure if he believed him or not, but after a moment he realized his mind did have more echoes of the things he was speaking of, though he’d never thought of it as out of the ordinary since he was so attached to the knife and its meaning to him in the first place.
Silence was still his strength, and he didn’t reveal everything. Somewhere deep down inside him, beyond the pain and guilt of his actions, he was still Esgona, and these two were still Johan and Aryu, and that was a barrier likely never to fall.
Johan thought often of Aryu. Where he was. What he was doing. If he was coming at all (a dire possibility he seemed to freely accept).
They encountered no more trouble that was a major setback of any kind. The river held its dangerous-but-tolerable levels, the road remained clear (confirmation that what Skerd had promised would be so) and the weather, although still windy and cool at the best of times, held out enough to let the group stay dry with a minimum of effort. Once again, the blessing of small miracles experienced by Johan was in the air. The world was merciful in its cruelty.
They trekked for six days, stopping each night since they could no longer afford the space for people to sleep on the carts. After the third night, only one Inja Rider was left for sentry duty, but it was mostly to keep an eye on the river and nothing more.
