The Water Seekers kept up a brisk pace. They avoided the upper levels of the sand dunes, choosing to skirt the bottom so as to avoid being noticed by any searching party. They walked in a single file that had Ishar thinking of a large meandering snake that never crested the dunes but only ever scaled across the flanks. They spoke little, out of fear or out of dedication to the march, Ishar couldn't tell which.
He tried to strike up conversation with them but they all seemed either too scared or unwilling to acknowledge him, as if him being there was premonition of impending doom. Ishar found himself wondering yet again about the consequences of his actions, had he done wrong by killing those who'd sought to hurt them? Where then was the hero's welcome he'd envisioned he'd receive when he finally met his fellow Kolotians?
He'd spent nights with Niada, talking about his dream, this need to unite those of his race who were scattered across the realm. To build something with the power he had that would enable him to create something that would blot out the past of suffering his race had endured. But here, amongst his own kind he suddenly felt himself an outcast, someone who nobody wanted to associate with. Someone—
"We're getting close." Phesoj said from beside him. The short skinny Water Seeker had been matching his strides without his knowledge. Phesoj walked with such silence, as if afraid of making his presence known. And there, in the slouch of his shoulders there was a weight that didn't come from the stone can he was carrying across his back. They were tired, all of them. As if resigned to a fate worse than death at such a young age.
"How did you do it?" Phesoj asked. "How did you kill them?"
"I've come to learn that the best way to kill someone is to ensure their body is either broken, their heads bashed in or a clever cut or puncture upon the body ought to do the trick." Ishar answered.
"They were many." Phesoj said. "You moved like, like a wild man."
"I think the word that better suits me is, a mad man."
"Are you mad?"
"It depends on who you're asking."
"But I am asking you."
"How the hell am I supposed to know? I don't watch myself."
They walked in silence for a moment before Phesoj decided to opine again. The sun was overhead and the carrion birds who'd dotted Ishar's killing field from the previous night were now black spots in the distance. "What did you do to Dagaa?"
"To who?"
"That one." Phesoj pointed at the one who was muttering to himself. "You put your hand to his chest and he suddenly lost his mind."
"Why don't you help him find it?" Ishar asked. "You're telling me this guy lost his mind back there and we all just left? We should have stayed back, combed the sands for his mind until we found it."
Phesoj stared at Ishar as if he wasn't making any sense. This was something that irritated Ishar a great deal, a lot of the time when he said something people looked at him with this contemplating stare, as if they were trying to piece him together. Which is odd provided many weren't pieced together themselves. There were even some who were losing their minds for gods sake!
But he enjoyed the presence of his fellow Kolotians. The violet eyes that avoided his, the fingers with their tips stained blue that trembled in his presence. And that dark lustrous hair, he especially liked the hair of the one who'd recently taken charge. Indomil was her name? There was a beauty to that woman that was reminiscent of Niada.
Where was Niada? They'd parted ways in the desert, she'd gone with Carrot to divert the attention of the Binorian Hunters while he searched for the Kolotians. He knew she'd avail herself when the time was right, he found himself longing for her. For those almond shaped eyes and that delicate curve of her neck where his kisses fell like they belonged.
"They say you're insane, that you're going to be the doom of the Colony. That bringing you was a mistake." Phesoj broke the silence once more. "They believe the moment we'd seen you among the Binorian dead, we should have turned back and ran."
"What do you believe?"
"I believe you're a harbinger, as they say. But not ours, I believe you're destined to save us from oppression. To be a bane to those who hate us." Phesoj said and there was something in his eye, the gleam of fanaticism that would soon spark a furnace
Ishar wanted to tell him that he had nothing to worry about since the recent King of Binoria died by his hand but he saw it fit instead to ask Phesoj something that related more to where they were going. "So the colony, how many are you there?"
"We number in the thousands."
"Do you have warriors?"
"Thegir, the colony chief, has the Hundred. Special Kolotians whose fingers are holy and shouldn't be cut who served to bring order to the colony and punish wrong doers." Phesoj answered. "It was my dream to join the Hundred but this is my last Water Seeking, upon our return all of us will go through the finger ceremony where we shall give back to the colony."
"Give your fingers?" Ishar asked
"Yes, for the good of the colony."
"Does Thegir have his fingers?"
"Yes."
"All ten of them?"
"Yes"
"Why hasn't he cut his fingers like the rest of you are going to?"
"Because he is holy." Phesoj answered.
"We're here!" Indomil shouted from ahead.
Instead of passing beneath a dune they crested it. And at the peak Ishar could see level ground going as far as the eye could see, flat ground made of stone. An anomaly in the desert. And there, an opening that seemed to lead underground, shaped like the mouth of a cave where four hulking Kolotians stood guard.
"Thank Meena we've arrived!" Xelif said from beside Ishar.
Ishar scoffed and said. "Meena? I beat the crap out of her once you know."
XXXXXX
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