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.What water they would have found for drinking, Ohaern could not see—but the sage forged ahead with a steady, tireless gait and seemed never in doubt as to where he was going.The Klaja was the first to grow weak with the heat.“Must rest,” he informed them, and sat down right where he was.It still amazed the smith to hear so bestial a face utter words that were so human.He turned back to urge the poor creature to its feet.“You cannot rest here, friend! The sun will grow hotter, and you have no shelter.”“Cannot,” the Klaja lamented.“Too hot”“Here, cool yourself.” Feeling prodigal, Ohaern spilled a precious handful of water over the Klaja’s head.The beast looked up in surprise, then licked the wet fur about its mouth with a long pink tongue.“More!”“Only a few swallows.” Manalo had turned back to help.“Then you must fight your way to your feet, O Klaja, so that we may journey onward to a bit of shade.”“What if there is no shade?” Lucoyo glanced at the sun fearfully; like most northerners, he had never thought it could be a source of danger.“I know of a place,” Manalo assured him.“Know?” The half-elf pounced on the word.“You have been here before, then?”“Only a little farther,” Manalo urged the Klaja, and it pushed itself to its feet, already panting and slobbering again.Lucoyo looked up in irritation and was about to repeat his question when Ohaern’s slight shake of the head caught his eye.He frowned with resentment—what right had Ohaern to tell him what not to do?—but subsided.Still, he wondered how the sage could be so sure as he followed Manalo deeper into the waste.They did indeed come to a rocky outcrop into which the wind had carved niches where they could find shade, and even some coolness stored in the stone from the night.They shared a meager meal of hard biscuit and dried meat, washed down with carefully measured mouthfuls of water, then tried to sleep a little.As the sun swung low, Manalo shooed them out and led them off toward the east again.They marched till darkness fell, then lit a fire, for the heat of the day was followed by an amazing chill.Ohaern went hunting and found nothing—but the Klaja came back with two hares and refused to eat any, claiming to have already devoured a third.At last they slept—deeply, due to exhaustion— but Manalo rousted them out as the sky began to lighten, and set them on their way again.That was the pattern of their days, for a week.Manalo refused to tell them where they were bound, or how he knew where to find shade and, every few days, a pool welling from the rock, or a small rivulet.Not understanding why, the companions nonetheless trudged through the dreary waste, their minds numbing and emptying to nothing more than overcoming the dreariness and heat till the next resting place.Around them the grass grew ever more scarce, and patches of sand and bare rock grew more frequent.Then Manalo’s next spring turned out to be only a powdery basin of dust, and the companions had to force themselves to go on and on, with only occasional mouthfuls of brackish water as their water skins grew lighter and flatter.Finally, the Klaja refused to rise when the sun dipped, and his friends stood in consternation about him.They would not leave him, but they no longer had the strength to carry him, either.Then the dwerg fainted.Lucoyo sat down on the ground with a cry of despair, clutching his head.“The heat drives me mad, it makes the blood pound through my temples, awaking an ache with every passage! Sage, make it stop!”Manalo laid a hand on his head, muttering an ancient formula.The half-elf sagged with relief, then slumped back against the rock, and Manalo stepped aside, motioning Ohaern to follow.“They can go no farther without water,” he told the smith in a low voice.“Here, take my water skin.Guard them and measure out the liquid.Give them mouthfuls of the sour wine as often as they will take it, for it quenches thirst better than water.”“You speak as if you will not stay,” Ohaern said, frowning.“Quite right; I shall seek help.There are folk who live in this waste, and one tribe is near.I shall find them and return—no, do not seek to stop me, Ohaern! I shall be well.Only guard those I leave in your care!”Ohaern did—he measured out the water, though the clamoring thirst within urged him to drink it all himself, and immediately, but there was perhaps a day’s supply left for them all.He hunted that night, and the blood of the hare and the three large lizards he found was a welcome addition to their liquid resources.A foolish snake tried to bite the hunter and was roasted for dinner himself in return [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.What water they would have found for drinking, Ohaern could not see—but the sage forged ahead with a steady, tireless gait and seemed never in doubt as to where he was going.The Klaja was the first to grow weak with the heat.“Must rest,” he informed them, and sat down right where he was.It still amazed the smith to hear so bestial a face utter words that were so human.He turned back to urge the poor creature to its feet.“You cannot rest here, friend! The sun will grow hotter, and you have no shelter.”“Cannot,” the Klaja lamented.“Too hot”“Here, cool yourself.” Feeling prodigal, Ohaern spilled a precious handful of water over the Klaja’s head.The beast looked up in surprise, then licked the wet fur about its mouth with a long pink tongue.“More!”“Only a few swallows.” Manalo had turned back to help.“Then you must fight your way to your feet, O Klaja, so that we may journey onward to a bit of shade.”“What if there is no shade?” Lucoyo glanced at the sun fearfully; like most northerners, he had never thought it could be a source of danger.“I know of a place,” Manalo assured him.“Know?” The half-elf pounced on the word.“You have been here before, then?”“Only a little farther,” Manalo urged the Klaja, and it pushed itself to its feet, already panting and slobbering again.Lucoyo looked up in irritation and was about to repeat his question when Ohaern’s slight shake of the head caught his eye.He frowned with resentment—what right had Ohaern to tell him what not to do?—but subsided.Still, he wondered how the sage could be so sure as he followed Manalo deeper into the waste.They did indeed come to a rocky outcrop into which the wind had carved niches where they could find shade, and even some coolness stored in the stone from the night.They shared a meager meal of hard biscuit and dried meat, washed down with carefully measured mouthfuls of water, then tried to sleep a little.As the sun swung low, Manalo shooed them out and led them off toward the east again.They marched till darkness fell, then lit a fire, for the heat of the day was followed by an amazing chill.Ohaern went hunting and found nothing—but the Klaja came back with two hares and refused to eat any, claiming to have already devoured a third.At last they slept—deeply, due to exhaustion— but Manalo rousted them out as the sky began to lighten, and set them on their way again.That was the pattern of their days, for a week.Manalo refused to tell them where they were bound, or how he knew where to find shade and, every few days, a pool welling from the rock, or a small rivulet.Not understanding why, the companions nonetheless trudged through the dreary waste, their minds numbing and emptying to nothing more than overcoming the dreariness and heat till the next resting place.Around them the grass grew ever more scarce, and patches of sand and bare rock grew more frequent.Then Manalo’s next spring turned out to be only a powdery basin of dust, and the companions had to force themselves to go on and on, with only occasional mouthfuls of brackish water as their water skins grew lighter and flatter.Finally, the Klaja refused to rise when the sun dipped, and his friends stood in consternation about him.They would not leave him, but they no longer had the strength to carry him, either.Then the dwerg fainted.Lucoyo sat down on the ground with a cry of despair, clutching his head.“The heat drives me mad, it makes the blood pound through my temples, awaking an ache with every passage! Sage, make it stop!”Manalo laid a hand on his head, muttering an ancient formula.The half-elf sagged with relief, then slumped back against the rock, and Manalo stepped aside, motioning Ohaern to follow.“They can go no farther without water,” he told the smith in a low voice.“Here, take my water skin.Guard them and measure out the liquid.Give them mouthfuls of the sour wine as often as they will take it, for it quenches thirst better than water.”“You speak as if you will not stay,” Ohaern said, frowning.“Quite right; I shall seek help.There are folk who live in this waste, and one tribe is near.I shall find them and return—no, do not seek to stop me, Ohaern! I shall be well.Only guard those I leave in your care!”Ohaern did—he measured out the water, though the clamoring thirst within urged him to drink it all himself, and immediately, but there was perhaps a day’s supply left for them all.He hunted that night, and the blood of the hare and the three large lizards he found was a welcome addition to their liquid resources.A foolish snake tried to bite the hunter and was roasted for dinner himself in return [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]