Followed by Fros(25)
As soon as the next camel spied me, it threw a similar tantrum, shaking its head back and forth, sawing its teeth from side to side. It flicked its tail and locked its knees. Imad watched its antics with a frown, twisting one of his braids around his finger. The rest of his men had already been saddled and were waiting for us. Some chuckled at the spectacle. I wanted to bury myself in the sand.
To my surprise, Lo dismounted and walked over to the fretting animal, pushing past the shorter stable hands. Without pausing, he grabbed the reins just under the camel’s mouth—I was sure it would bite him or charge—and yanked them downward so sharply the camel mewed and stumbled before folding its legs and lying down. Lo took a large scarf from around his neck and bound it around the camel’s eyes. He grabbed the beast’s large muzzle, turned its head away from me, and waited expectantly.
“Taishar,” Imad said with a grin, thanking him. “Best get on before it changes its mind.”
I wanted to ask what would happen if the camel changed its mind while I was on its back nine feet in the air, but I didn’t want to cause a bigger scene, so I hurried over the saddle—eyeing Lo—and took my seat, ensuring the blankets protected the unwilling creature as much as possible from the cold of my touch. Once I was secure, Lo released the animal and let it stand. It mewed again and shook itself, but it seemed mostly content with—or at least accepting of—the situation.
“Taishar,” I said, but Lo merely glanced at me with that stony expression of his before returning to his own mount.
Imad, at least, laughed at the spectacle, if not at me, lightening the mood somewhat. I rode next to Eyan on our trek across the Unclaimed Lands, and he offered me the occasional jab, saying things such as “The desert has never seen snow, and that camel sure didn’t want to see you!” or “I’ve always liked graceful women.”
I couldn’t help but smile, despite knowing it encouraged him. “Be grateful you have me to keep you cool,” I said in Hraric, “or the Unclaimed Lands would claim you.”
The Unclaimed Lands stretched for miles, barren and unending. The camels’ feet kicked up dust, coating their legs as well as ours. We moved swiftly enough for my storm to withhold its snow, save for when we camped for the night in the middle of the large, dry expanse. I knew the Unclaimed Lands must have been scorching, for not a quarter mile after we set out each morning, I would look over my shoulder and the night’s snow would be gone, sucked into the thirsty cracks of the infertile ground.
As Imad had warned me, the sand thickened underfoot, brown at first, then more and more golden where the sun touched it beyond the reach of my cold. In the afternoon the sun shined so brightly off the sand I could hardly stand to look beyond the storm’s shadows. The ground formed dips and hills, each larger than the last. Imad led us over their crests, and I marveled at the wavelike patterns that decorated their sides, like a cascade of long hair. I saw, tumbling down one of these hills, the largest spider I had ever laid eyes on. So large it had fur—white fur—and long, spindly legs much like the ones etched onto Imad’s helmet. Disregarding my situation with the camels, I couldn’t help but be glad creatures like that spider stayed away from me.
We traveled for three days before Imad announced, for my benefit, that we had entered Zareed. How he knew, I couldn’t be sure—I spied no signs or markers, and the rolling hills of sand looked identical to the ones we had just passed. By the end of the third day, I could see rough, jagged mountains in the distance, and by the fourth day, the endless golden sand opened up to the most magnificent city I had ever beheld.
The capital of Zareed, Mac’Hliah, was enormous—Euwan could have fit into it thirty times. It nestled into the crook of that jagged mountain range: tall, knifelike mountains that rose like ochre flames, twisted and knotted and proud, from the dust-packed ground. They seemed, from the distance, to be coated in dead moss, and I could only wonder what the incredible range had looked like before the drought had stripped it of life. The sun cast the peaks’ toothy shadows over the city, making Mac’Hliah appear to sit in the mouth of a great desert beast.
Homes both large and small stippled the scooping valley like scales on a fish: white, bronze, beige, and flax. They had flat roofs and rectangular doors and windows. No chimneys that I could see. Built of mud brick, most of the houses appeared to be only one story, and the smallest dwellings were no larger than a single room. There seemed little design to their layout, other than clustering close to the mountains, where there would have been water runoff before the drought. Between the brick buildings I caught glimpses of circular tents with vaulted roofs. I later learned the larger ones were homes of nomadic merchants, and the smaller ones housed the very poor. I marveled at the sight. My own home in Euwan would have stood out like a fish in a tree in this city, and would have been considered a grand home indeed.
But what really stole my breath away was the palace on the far end of the city, nestled into the mountains—carved from them—presiding over the land. Three tall tiers of smooth stone composed the magnificent structure—the top and bottom floors were striped with grand columns, and the center was cut with wide circle-top windows. It shimmered almost ivory against the mountains, though whether it had been whitewashed or the stone was particularly pale, I could not tell. Each floor featured a curving balcony, and a large stone path extended outward from the bottom story and into the village, as though the foundation had melted, partway, back into the earth. Magnificent carvings of people and strange creatures animated those pale walls as well, but I could not see the details from such a distance.