The Free Trader of Warren Deep (Free Trader Series Book 1) (9 page)

26 – The Camp before the Storm

Skirill leapt from the rock and angled away from the nest. He fell into a glide, but that didn’t match his mood. He wanted speed. He let his wings fold back along his body, letting his wing tips give him just enough lift. He picked up speed until the wind screamed past his head. He roared toward the foothills at a dangerous pace. Even Hawkoids had limits, and he was pushing them. His wing was mostly healed, but not completely. He risked more injury. He needed to get his frustration under control.

He extended his wings away from his body a little a time until he leveled off, then rose gently into a long glide. His wings lifted him effortlessly. He circled once without flapping his wings, coasting in for a flawless landing on the rocks beside the stream.

The flight from the cliffs was far quicker than the flight up. Despite his side trip, Skirill was still at the stream before Braden and his caravan. 

When Braden and G-War arrived with the horses, Skirill had dragged a few branches to help Braden start the fire. In the foothills of the Bittner Mountains, there was a little bit of everything – woods, plains, wildlife, water, and shelter. Each of them could find something to their taste as they rested and prepared.

Braden unhooked the cart and hobbled the horses. He set up camp, knowing that they would probably stay there for as many turns as necessary while they planned their attack on the Great Desert.

Skirill sat on a boulder nearby. His body was massive, bigger than the Hillcat’s. His chest feathers were finally clean and shown a glistening white in the waning daylight. His wings and back were a dark brown, with light brown streaks. His head was covered in short, light brown feathers. On the rock, he stood with his claws spread. His talons hooked and ended in needle-sharp points. They were longer than a person’s middle finger. His beak was slim, yet squarish, ending in a fine point, made to penetrate soft flesh. His beak was strong enough to break thin bones, big enough to rip through Braden’s neck in a single bite.

Skirill watched the human study him, finally ending with a nod in the Hawkoid’s direction. Skirill nodded back. He needed someone to be proud of him. Getting shunned by his fellow Hawkoids weighed on him heavily. His body did not betray his sadness. Maybe the human and the ‘cat would help him bring glory to himself and by extension, all Hawkoids. At that point, he was happy that a warrior with Braden’s inner peace had accepted him into his nest.

G-War drank his fill from the stream, casually listening in on both Braden and Skirill’s thoughts. The ‘cat was gifted among Hillcats. Most simply linked with their human and then went about their business. G-War’s mindlink was strong. He had trouble in towns where there were too many humans with their chaotic thoughts beating against him. His dalliances helped shore up his defenses and kept him calm. Even with this, he had lost control in Cameron. He hadn’t meant to kill the two men in the square, but something evil hung over the town and made him fight as if he was fighting against the world’s darkness, fighting for his life.

He liked the calm of this journey. There were moments of excitement, but it was usually peaceful. He understood Skirill’s pain, having left the clutch of his Hillcat litter while still very young. He had run across few of his kind in the last ten cycles. He turned his head until he could see his own body – orange with black dots and one slash back towards his tail continuing down his left leg. He was sleek and long legged. His body was a little smaller than the average Hillcat’s, but he was strong. This made him faster and in his mind, more deadly.

Braden had been right. The Golden Warrior could see into the future, but no longer than it took a heart to beat fifty times. It was enough to save their lives, but not enough to change how they lived those lives. He didn’t know their destiny.

Braden busied himself with getting their camp ready, setting things up and preparing for a relaxing evening, doing little, most importantly, not doing it on a horse. He wasn’t yet accustomed to long rides. He thought that he might be getting bow-legged and that he had a permanent bruise at the end of his tailbone. He didn’t even have any numbweed to put on it. They needed to rectify that before they continued their journey.

When he looked up at his companions, they were both looking at each other and at him. He couldn’t sense anything from either, so G-War had his mindlink closed.

“What?” Braden said holding his hands up. “What did I do?”

27 – Bonding

G-War had so conditioned Braden that whenever he saw the ‘cat looking at him, he assumed it was to highlight one of his many flaws. Skirill bobbed his head in the way that Hawkoids did when they laughed. G-War shook his head has he often did when Braden said stupid things. Pet the nice kitty, indeed.

“I missed the joke. C’mon G, let me in.” The mindlink opened. Braden could sense both G-War and Skirill.

‘What are you two laughing at? Or should I say, who are you laughing at?’

‘It’s so sensitive,’
G-War mocked.
‘Nothing like that.’

‘I was thinking,’
Skirill began in his edged form of human thought speech, interrupting the ‘cat
. ‘I flew to the cliffs. I saw my Hawkoid brothers there. I asked them about the Great Desert and they showed me where an oasis might be.’

‘That’s great! Will it take long to get there? Which way do we need to go?’
Braden’s thoughts rushed at them in a jumble. G-War looked at him sternly.
‘Sorry. Go on Skirill,’
he said, more reserved.

‘Once they learned I traveled with you both, they chased me away.’
Skirill looked down at his talons, not wanting to meet the eyes of his companions.
‘It’s not the first time I’ve been chased away. My nesties. My click. I wanted to kill the Bear to show them that I was better than them. That I was the best of them.’
He paused to flex his talons as he remembered the fight that wasn’t a fight. It was him getting mauled and flying away.

‘I showed them, didn’t I? I showed that I wasn’t any smarter than they were, even though I told them all that I was. I told them that we needed to develop a culture more like the humans if we were ever to realize our full potential.’
Skirill shuffled back and forth.
‘They weren’t ready for that, and I wasn’t the right Hawkoid to suggest it.’

He hesitated and looked at Braden.
‘I’ve been shunned by my own people. I’m an outcast,’
he said with a final exasperated sigh.

‘So?’
Replied G-War. The Hillcat saw things as much more black and white. He saw that Skirill had eaten well since joining with Braden. His terrible wounds were mending, and he was safe. Life was simpler for a Hillcat.

‘What G means to say is that we are all outcasts,’
Braden said matter-of-factly.
‘Look at us Skirill! Look where we are and look where we’re going!’
He pointed to the south to emphasize his point.
‘And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Who else has been bold enough to attempt crossing the Great Desert? No one I heard of because if they tried, they died there. But we’re better than that. The world’s never seen a caravan like ours. A Hawkoid? A ‘cat and a human with an ancient Rico Bow? I think that I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.’

Braden walked as close to Skirill as he could get without climbing the rocks
. ‘Ski. You are my friend, and I will do what it takes to protect you. If that means helping you to prove your click wrong, then we’ll do that. If it simply means surviving to see another turn, then we’ll do that, too. What do you think, G? Can you help the poor human and weak Hawkoid survive for just one more turn?’
Braden laughed as he walked toward the ‘cat, who was holding up his furry paw with his mock rude gesture. Braden caught the ‘cat’s head in both hands and rubbed behind his ears. G-War allowed this, maybe even a little longer than usual.

‘Hungry,’
is all the ‘cat said.

28 – The Pain of the Great Desert

Braden was deliberate in his preparations to cross the Great Desert. He calculated water usage rates in order to best supply the horses first, then everyone else. They needed more water or they needed a water source in the desert. They needed numbweed just in case. They had a good supply of food, although it would never hurt to have more. Water was the most critical. Without it, food alone couldn’t save them.

They also needed it to be cooler. It was the fall. If they waited a couple moons, then temperatures wouldn’t be so hot, but they could find themselves at the mercy of the winter storms. Braden didn’t know how these affected the desert, but he suspected they wouldn’t be kind. Better warmer now without a sandstorm. They could go when they were ready, but Skirill wanted to find a source of water first and then determine the best way to get there.

In the morning on their first full turn at their campsite, Skirill ate a rabbit, then drank his fill directly from the stream. He hopped into the air and with a few powerful strokes of his wings, he gained altitude. He kept to his rhythmic beating, slow and purposeful, steadily climbing above the land. Soon he was a dot against the shimmer of the desert’s heat. Then they could no longer see him. It seemed that he had already flown further than they could travel on the ground in a single turn.

Then they waited.

But waiting did not mean wasting time. Both Braden and G-War headed into the woods in search of the raw numbweed which they could process in their small pot. It would take time, but having prepared numbweed, could be the difference between life and death. They found a few small patches, which Braden harvested in entirety.

Braden also downed a young buck who didn’t seem to be aware of the companions in his woods. G-War was pleased to have fresh venison. They would keep some warm for when Skirill returned.

The heat of the daylight passed, and the sun got lower and lower in the sky. The numbweed was in the pot with just a touch of water, simmering slowly. It couldn’t boil and it couldn’t get too dry. He had to keep adding just a little water at a time, watch it reduce, then add a little more. When it turned a certain light green color, it would be ready.

‘He comes,’
G-War said. As it edged toward dusk, they watched as a familiar dot reappeared in the southern sky, slowly approaching.

Almost too slowly. The Hawkoid was struggling to stay aloft. He would glide for a while, then beat his wings, slightly out of rhythm, making him weave as he gained height. Then he would glide and repeat the process. It took him an agonizing amount of time to return, although that was more perception than reality.

Skirill glided the last few hundred strides and landed in the stream. He dipped his head under the water repeatedly, drinking until he threw up, then drinking again. Braden rushed into the water to help him.

“Hot….Hot,” Skirill said out loud. Braden hadn’t thought the Hawkoid could get sunburned. How would they survive the heat?

Skirill’s legs were swollen, the stitches stretched tightly across his half-healed leg wound. The raw skin on his wing was dry and cracked. He dipped his body completely under the water a few times, enjoying the cool of the mountain stream.

“I need to take out those stitches before they rip your skin.” The water helped soften the thread and surrounding skin, so removing the stitches wasn’t difficult, but the skin had already been stretched to the extreme. Braden took his time to ensure that he didn’t cause any more damage to Skirill’s leg. The fire threw little light as he couldn’t allow the numbweed to get too hot. It wouldn’t be ready for some time yet.

G-War showed up at his side, front paws deep into the water as he chewed a mouthful of the weed. Braden knew that the ‘cat’s mouth and mind would both go numb from this effort. Only in an emergency would someone chew numbweed as it made the chewer weak and sleepy. Both the injured party and the rescuer would be unable to defend themselves. Chewing numbweed was the last ditch effort made by one willing to risk his life to save another’s.

‘Don’t be so dramatic. It can watch over us for once.’
G-War would never let on that he cared.

Braden put out his hands and the cat promptly spit out the gooey mess. Braden watched to make sure that G-War got out of the water before collapsing. Rubbing carefully in his hands to make a small patch, he put some carefully on Skirill’s wing and the rest on his swollen leg wound, freshly diced by the removed stitches.

Skirill sighed audibly as his eyes rolled back in his head. Braden helped him out of the water and settled him onto a small boulder, high enough to keep his tail feathers out of the dirt, but not too high where Braden couldn’t lift him up. Braden expected the Hawkoid to be far heavier than he was. Skirill weighed about half as much as the deer that Braden had killed earlier in the daylight. Their bodies were about the same size, but Skirill seemed much larger.

Braden checked the cooking numbweed, and added a little water. He brought some strips of fresh deer to Skirill, who ate them without opening his eyes. Braden took a cloth and wiped G-War’s front paws dry. The ‘cat’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth onto the ground. It was up to Braden to help restore the ‘cat’s dignity, which he did by putting the cloth under G-War’s head as a pillow.

Then Braden returned to the fire, settling in to watch over his friends for the night.