Chapter 33

The second wagon appeared on the horizon early on the sixth day. Ezhno shaded his eyes and studied them for a few moments, then headed down the steps to camp. Mato followed, trying to get some information from his teacher.

“What did you see?”

“I saw a wagon that’s barely moving, now shut up and walk.”

They found Erik talking with the women.

“Erik, we need to send the second wagon with plenty of water for the men and horses,” Ezhno said.

“What is it?” Erik asked.

“Dichali and Ulf are returning, but they are barely moving. Something is wrong. Take Mato and me, and we will go get them.”

Erik brought another northman and they hooked up the horses, loaded a couple of barrels, and set out.

When they arrived at the other wagon it was worse than Mato expected. Ulf was slumped on the driver’s seat, and the horses were taking slow steps, heads down, eyes dull. Dichali was worse. He lay in the rear of the wagon, one leg black and swollen. Pus oozed from a pair of long shallow cuts.

Ezhno had a skin of healing water ready, and directed Mato to pour a little on the cuts, then get Dichali to swallow some. Then he went forward to drip fresh water for Ulf.

Mato cast his shade shield, and went to work. Erik and Sten went to help the horses, slowly watering them and then giving them a bit to eat.

The water of life sizzled and bubbled over Dichali’s wounds. After several careful passes Mato gave up on getting the water to run clear and turned to coaxing some down the trail master’s throat.

They switched the teams around, so that each wagon had fresh horses, and then got the wagons moving. The trip took the rest of the day, and they stopped often to give the animals drinks.

Ulf began to show signs of life after a couple of hours. The next morning he was rasping out the story.

They’d spotted what looked like a small waterfall far up the slope, so Dichali had gone to scout it. When he returned he was staggering and Ulf couldn’t understand any of his words. He had a snake bite on his calf, and it grew progressively worse.

It took time to get him loaded up and get the wagon moving, and then they had to stop frequently to give Dichali water. He was thirsty constantly, and Ulf feared that if he tried to ration the water, Dichali would die.

“I started rationing myself when we started back. Two days ago I started rationing the horses. I stopped drinking over a day ago. It’s bloody hot out here when you don’t have shade or water.”

“You’ve done well,” Ezhno said. “Dichali will live, and I think we’ll even be able to save his leg. The horses are all alive, and so are you. No one would ask more of you in a hard place like this.”

“Well said,” Erik said. “All of our scouts did well, and the other wagon found water. We'll send out another expedition with both wagons. It’s not going to be easy, but we’re going to live.”

* * *

Fifteen days after leaving Abo the first of the horses reached the top of the slope. None of them were happy about the climb, and Erik said they would need a proper road to get down again.

By day seventeen they had the entire caravan and all of their possessions at the top.

The land was starkly beautiful. Various kinds of strange plants with spines and bodies full of goop were spaced out across the earth and stones. Ezhno said they were cacti, but he didn’t know what to call the individual types.

They held a meeting and after some arguing Erik decided they would pack the wagons and their contents past a narrow spot. Beyond that the land would be somewhat agreeable to trail building.

Hilda--and all of the women--insisted on helping with the hauling. Mato helped her get a barrel strapped on, then she helped him.

“What are you looking at?” she demanded.

Mato smirked at her. “The straps emphasize your figure. We should have had you packing a water barrel the entire trip.”

“Lean forward so I can slap you.”

Mato leaned forward, and she gave him a full-handed slap, but even though it stung he could tell she hadn’t put her heart into it.

“Ow. I thought we were to be honest with each other.”

“Alright. You can compliment my figure, but not too often.”

“That’s a stupid rule,” Mato snickered. “You have a gorgeous figure all of the time, but I’m only allowed to say so some of the time?”

She put her hands on her hips, which looked funny with the straps around her and her body leaning forward to compensate for the barrel’s weight.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Fine. If you’re not going to take me seriously, you can’t look.”

Mato turned his eyes away. “That’s even worse,” he said softly. “Marriage usually means I’m the only one who gets to look. Now you’re saying I’m the one who doesn’t get to. I think it’s wise that you’re finding a way to call this off.”

“Mato Stone Foot,” she hissed, “you take that back, and right now.”

“Which part?”

“I don’t know.”

* * *

The work was hard, and it took numerous trips to relay everything beyond the gap. The horses were so big they’d been forced to chip away some of the rock to get them through.

Beyond the gap the land sloped upward for a few clips. Far in the background a snow capped mountain watched over everything below. The stream where the men filled the barrels with water before ran along the base of the western ridge. By the end of the day they had put the wagons back together, refilled the barrels.

In the early morning they started their way northward. It was slow going, grading the trail, shifting boulders, removing the occasional stubborn, stunted tree. Some days they moved two or three clips, other days they didn’t bother to move camp.

There wasn’t a great deal to hunt, and so the trail masters ranged far to the east, finding sparse grass with snakes, quail, and the occasional deer or mountain goat. Mato’s skill with the bow grew rapidly.

Unfortunately, he learned to dread returning to the caravan. Hilda would chat with him a bit, which was difficult, but he made himself do it. In the meantime Mother and Ezhno began sneaking away from camp together. The northmen all seemed to think it was great fun, and teased both of them. Mato and his sister, Meda, were mortified.

He sat a few paces from the evening fire, leaning against a convenient rock. Freya settled next to him, a display of red curls and emerald eyes.

“Hello, Mato.”

“Good evening, Princess Freya.”

“Princess? Are you serious? I haven’t had a proper bath since you saw me in Nambe.”

Mato flushed.

“I see your mother and Ezhno like each other.”

“Please don’t tease me. I don’t understand Norland humor.”

She smiled, and his wounded heart skipped a beat. “I’m not here to tease you. I’m here to find out how you and my sister are doing.”

He tried to smile back. “We’re doing fine. She’s incredible.”

“Then why am I sitting here, while she is off bathing in the stream? Shouldn’t you be with her?”

Mato’s eyes widened, and he put his head down to hide his blushing. “No!”

Freya chewed her lip and studied him. “Do you like women, Mato?”

“Of course,” he glanced up, trying to figure out where this was going.

“Are you sure? It’s alright if you like men.”

“No, really. I like Hilda. And other women too--that didn’t sound right. I like women, especially Hilda.”

“Alright,” she said. “Tell me if I can advise you?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s a good offer, Mato. I’m her sister. I know things.”

He frowned at her. “Why are you speaking to me? You haven’t said more than ‘hello’ since we met.”

“Just watching out for Hilda. And you too, of course.” She rose in a graceful motion, then glided away.

* * *

The next day Ezhno took him hunting again. For three days they roamed the desert. Mato enjoyed it immensely. Out here, under the blue sky, and up where the heat wasn’t quite so intense, he felt free.

Of course, evenings he worried about Hilda.

“What’s wrong?” Ezhno asked.

Mato turned a stick with a lizard on it, making sure the meat cooked evenly over their tiny fire.

“Absolute secrecy?”

“You’ve kept my secrets.”

Mato brooded for a few more minutes, and they finished roasting their lizards.

“I’m not allowed to say. She swore me to secrecy.”

Ezhno nodded. “That’s good. If you’ve promised to keep a secret, keep it. Perhaps you can tell me something about the problem without breaking your oath.”

“I’m important, Ezhno. I don’t know how it happened.”

“I do,” Ezhno laughed softly. “You’ve killed dangerous thema, befriended wise thema, turned against your king… I have a list, if you want to hear it.”

“Sometimes in stories, kings want their daughters to marry princes from other kingdoms.”

“Now I understand,” Ezhno said. “As to what to do about it… That’s a different kind of problem. You’ll need to figure out what each of them want. You already know what Hilda wants?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Do you want her?”

“Not if she doesn’t want me back.”

“Perfect. That is the right way to think about it.”

He added another couple of sticks to the fire and threaded a new lizard onto his roasting stick. “The key to winning an unwilling maiden--perhaps I should say two keys--is to listen very carefully to what she wants. Not always what she says, but always what she wants.”

Mato tossed the remains of his lizard away from camp and reached for another. “What do you mean, what she wants, not what she says? She told me what she wants.”

Ezhno laughed. “I have wanted a woman my entire life. Now that I have your mother, I think I am an expert, but I most certainly am not.

“You weren’t quite listening to me. This bit is about everyone, not just women. No one can tell you exactly what they want. We don’t have the words. Some of what Hilda says will be about what she wants. Some will be about what she does not want. You must take both of those, plus what you observe from her actions, and determine the truth to the best of your ability.”

Mato sighed and turned his lizard. “And if I am wrong?”

“That’s the beauty of romance, Mato. You don’t have to be right. You have to show her that you tried, really tried. In fact, it might even be better if you’re close, but not perfect. Perfection may spook her.”

Mato propped up his roasting stick, then threw his hands in the air. “That’s just great, Ezhno. I have to figure out what she wants, even though she can’t tell me, and then I have to get the answer just a bit wrong, so she doesn’t run away. How in the deep am I supposed to do that?”

Ezhno laughed, took a bite, then continued laughing while he tried to chew. “How should I know? Your mother is the first woman I’ve pursued, and she’s been very nice to me--helping me figure it out when I do something wrong.”

Mato took his stick and poked it and the lizard into the fire. “I’m going to sleep.”