Quest for the Scorpion's Jewel Page 8

  Jesse wished he had brought some of Kayne’s remedy for burnt skin. Then again, his pack already felt heavy enough to pull him deep down in the sand. Each step was a fight, and he was glad to slump down to rest.

  “I’ll look ahead,” Rae said, walking toward the rocks ahead of them. She was still their scout, scanning for any sign of civilization, but her ventures had become less and less frequent as the day dragged on.

  “We should have reached Leden long ago,” Silas muttered heavily.

  “The sandstorm,” Jesse said. “It changed everything. We don’t even know where we are anymore.”

  There was certainly nothing around him to look at. Everything was hot and white and endless. He fingered the tortoise high on the staff. The upraised ridges on its shell reminded Jesse of all the times he and Eli had caught tortoises on the banks of the Dell River. The river—all that water, gushing over the rocks….

  Jesse shook his head. Just think about the tortoise. For determination, Kayne had said. Well, determination would serve me well here.

  The wooden tortoise gave Jesse an idea. “Silas,” he said. The older boy was studying the map, and barely looked up at Jesse’s words. “I’ve heard about desert tortoises who eat the buds of a cactus to survive. It’s a source of water for them.”

  Silas’ face had frozen.

  “We haven’t seen many cacti,” Jesse continued, starting to feel a little bit of hope, “but if we….”

  “Don’t move,” Silas ordered, interrupting. His voice was quiet, but the deadly seriousness in it made Jesse obey instantly. He did not blink and tried not to breathe.

  Silas carefully reached back to his quiver of arrows, but instead of fitting one to his bow, he struck forward with it, plunging the arrow into the ground by Jesse’s leg.

  Slowly, Jesse looked down. There, pinned to the ground, was a scorpion, larger than Jesse’s hand. It had been only inches away from his unprotected leg.

  “Thank you,” Jesse stammered out.

  Silas nodded. “Thank you for yesterday. You saved all of our lives.”

  Although he did not want to, Jesse found himself looking back at the dead scorpion. Probably about to strike, he thought. Good thing Silas struck first.

  Then Jesse groaned. Beside the scorpion, the sand was beginning to move. He barely had time to jerk away. Not another one!

  The sand beside the scorpion caved in, leaving behind a small hole. An insect crawled out of the hole with a high-pitched, whining hum. It shook sand off its large, translucent wings and flew into the air.

  Jesse stared at it in fascination. The insect bore a slight resemblance to the locusts he had known from Mir, but it was three times as big as any locust he had ever seen before. And three times as ugly. Sickly yellowish skin flaked over the bony spines of the creature, and its legs stuck out at odd angles.

  The insect swooped toward him, and Jesse scurried back in the sand. But the locust-creature did not seem to be interested in him at all. Instead, it landed on the scorpion and began tearing it to pieces, as if it was starving.

  Behind them, Rae gave a little shriek. She had come back and was holding the open water skin. The locust-creature veered toward her side, and she stumbled forward, spilling some of their precious water. The locust-creature gave a hiss of agony the moment the water touched it. Suddenly, it whirred into a frenzy, spinning and flying through the air so quickly it became a dark blur.

  “Stay back,” Silas shouted, as if he needed to warn them. Rae dropped to the sand, as the locust-creature continued its mad spiral. Once, it buzzed past Jesse’s ear, and he cringed. The noise it made in its panic sounded like an unearthly scream.

  Then, suddenly, it fell to the sand and lay there, lifeless.

  “What is it?” Rae asked, recovering quickly. She stood and brushed the sand from her clothes.

  “Dead, I think,” Silas said, eying it warily. “The water killed it.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Jesse said, staring down at it.

  All of a sudden, the locust-creature twitched, and Rae gave a startled jerk. Jesse had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Rae, boldest of warriors, is afraid of an insect. He knew that if he were to make that observation out loud, it would be his last.

  “Good fortune to you, young travelers,” a voice called.

  Rae turned around so quickly she kicked sand on Jesse’s feet. More slowly, Jesse leaned against his staff and turned to face a comical looking man on a large, ugly camel. He wore a bright red robe and a white cloth around his head, held in place by a crooked silver band. The camel lurched from side to side like a furry sailing ship as the man urged it forward.

  “Who are you?” Rae demanded, stepping forward, as if she would attack the beast of a camel at the slightest hint of threat.

  The man dismounted and led his camel toward them. “I am Samariyosin,” he said, giving a mocking half-bow. “Trader and merchant of goods between Amarias and Da’armos.”

  Da’armos. Samariyosin knew where Da’armos was. More importantly, he probably also knew where he was now.

  Jesse studied him carefully. He was short and had clearly seen many years of the harsh desert wind. His robe was dirty and soaked with sweat. His eyes, deep within the wrinkles of his weather-beaten face, were sharp and intelligent, but not threatening. We don’t need to be afraid of him, Jesse decided.

  “That, at least, explains why I am here in the desert,” Samariyosin continued, “but why are you three alone, young, unprotected and so far from any village?”

  “That’s our concern,” Rae snapped.

  Very good, Rae. Offend the only guide we have.

  “We represent the king of Amarias,” Silas said, giving Rae a cautioning glance. “We are traveling to Da’armos to speak to the Sheik.”

  “Ah,” said Samariyosin, his eyes widening slightly. “Then I would do well to wish you good fortune, brave young travelers. Although it appears you have good fortune enough.”

  He was looking at the remains of the scorpion and the body of the locust-creature on the ground. “The scorpions are deadly, you know.”

  “And the locust?” Jesse asked, pointing to the other creature on the ground, still twitching. He had been too afraid to come close enough to crush it.

  “A kalthara,” Samariyosin said with a nod. “They only attack something larger than themselves if they smell blood or decay.” He grinned, his teeth white against tan skin. “In Da’armon, kalthara means ‘vulture insect.’”

  A fitting name, Jesse thought in disgust.

  “When the water touched it, why did it….” Silas couldn’t seem to think of a fitting word to describe the panicked frenzy of the kalthara.

  “The kalthara can stay alive for months without drinking anything,” Samariyosin explained. “It has a protective layer of mucus covering its body. The water eats away at it. Very painful.”

  Jesse stared at the insect, still twitching on the sand. “I suppose so.”

  “As soon as his wings dry, he’ll be up and flying again,” Samariyosin said casually. He dismounted from the camel, sandaled feet sinking into the sand. “Off to terrorize the people of Da’armos. That’s where the rest are at this time of year. I’m surprised this one is so far from the pod.”

  There are more, Jesse groaned inwardly. And in the country we are traveling to.

  “Terrible creatures, kaltharas,” Samariyosin continued, picking up the locust between two fingers. It writhed in his grasp, its chirping hiss sending a shiver down Jesse’s spine. He watched in horror as Samariyosin opened his mouth and tossed the locust in. It crunched as he bit down.

  He wiped his mouth calmly, not noticing the stares of the three travelers. “But they make for excellent eating.”

  Chapter 11

  Ten guards traveled with Samariyosin’s caravan, huge and imposing men armed with enough swords and bows
to supply a detachment of the Amarian army.

  And, yet, as Jesse, Silas, Rae, and Samariyosin himself crouched by a small fire at the edge of the camp, no guards protected them from any desert bandits who might ambush them.

  As soon as Jesse turned around and scanned the camp, he knew why. Several dark figures were clustered around the tent that held the trading goods. Ah. I suppose that means we’re not worth as much as spices and woven cloth.

  It was not a comforting thought, especially since night had fallen, and Samariyosin had told them that Nalatid, the oasis town nearby, was known as a haven for rogues and thieves.

  “Nalatid is the largest oasis in the Abaktan Desert, and the closest to the Da’armon border,” Samariyosin said, throwing more chips on the fire. He had explained earlier that they collected the dung from their camels, dried it, and used it in place of firewood, which was scarce in the desert. “We’ll be at the Da’armon capital by tomorrow afternoon.”

  After another day of travel through the desert, that was welcome news. Jesse wasn’t quite as sore as he had been the first night. Riding on a camel was much easier than walking, even if the padded saddle wasn’t quite enough to make the bumpy journey comfortable.

  “Thank you for letting us travel with your caravan,” Silas said politely, as one of Samariyosin’s servants handed him a bowl of stew.

  “It was nothing,” Samariyosin said dismissively, waving away the thanks with a flutter of his long-sleeved robe.

  That, at least, was true. Jesse was fairly sure that Samariyosin would have left them standing there if Rae hadn’t mentioned the silver coins she carried, coins she would give to someone who would guide them to Da’armos. Samariyosin had been only too willing to volunteer.

  The servant, one of many traveling with Samariyosin’s caravan, gave Jesse his bowl. It was still hot, and Jesse balanced it on the edge of his fingertips. That, at least, gave him an excuse not to start eating yet. In the dark, Jesse couldn’t identify what was in it. He decided to let Silas or Rae take the first sip.

  Rae seemed to have other things on her mind. “How is it that you speak Amarian and Da’armon?” she asked Samariyosin.

  “Ah,” Samariyosin said, nodding. “An excellent question. I am, as you would say, a half-breed. My father was a trader also, born in the capital of Da’armos. He met my mother, one of your own kind, on one of his journeys. This was before the War of Palms, of course, when such marriages were not forbidden. They taught me both languages, both sets of customs.”

  He tilted his head back and took a gulp of soup. Jesse noticed that Silas did the same, although with a bit more caution. When he didn’t wince, spit into the fire, or drop dead, Jesse picked up his own bowl, finally realizing how hungry he really was.

  Jesse tried hard not to think about the kaltharas while he ate the stew. He also tried not to think of the fuel that was used in the fire it had been cooked over. With those things out of his mind, the stew was actually quite good. A little spicy, maybe, but filling. And, more importantly, there’s nothing crunchy in it.

  Silas set his bowl down and looked intently at Samariyosin from across the fire. “I have heard that some members of the movement we in Amarias call the Rebellion, cross the border of Da’armos for safety,” he said. “Is this true?”

  Samariyosin laughed. “I can assure you that it is not. No citizen of Amarias is welcome in Da’armos. If any of the Rebellion sought shelter here, they would no doubt be killed instantly.”

  “Good,” Silas said with satisfaction. “It’s no more than they deserve.”

  “Why do you hate them so much?” Rae asked him, sipping some of her own soup. “What they do is foolish, but these are desperate times. Many are without food, and maybe they feel like they have nowhere else to turn.”

  “I have no use for lawlessness,” Silas snapped, refusing to look at her. “They are nothing more than common criminals.”

  Rae just shrugged. “At least they’re taking some sort of action rather than letting their families starve. The king clearly isn’t looking out for us. I say it’s every person for himself.”

  This earned her a cutting glare from Silas. “Yes,” he said coldly. “I forgot you are a mercenary, selling your loyalty to the highest bidder.”

  For a moment, there was silence around the fire. Then Samariyosin, clearly uncomfortable, changed the subject. “Now,” he said, setting his bowl down by the fire to keep it warm, “I have a question for you. The Sheik does not grant audiences lightly. How is it that three young people wish to speak to the ruler of the land?”

  Jesse glanced at Silas, who gave a strong shake of his head. Apparently Rae wasn’t watching, because before Silas could cut her off, she answered Samariyosin’s question with a question of her own. “What can you tell us about the Scorpion’s Jewel?”

  In the firelight, Jesse could see confusion flicker across the old man’s face. Then he grinned. “Ah, you mean the obidhala,” he said. “I forgot the name given it by foreigners.”

  Since Silas seemed to be too busy glaring at Rae to speak up, Jesse asked, “Is it true that it is the greatest treasure of Da’armos?”

  “Yes. Given by the gods, or so it is said. It comes with a powerful curse for any who would try to harm the king or his people.”

  Wonderful. Although Jesse did not believe the stories about the obidhala, as Samariyosin called it, he also knew the treasure would be well-guarded. Which is not good for us.

  “Why do you ask?” Samariyosin said casually, draining the last of his stew. He wiped his mouth on the corner of his headdress.

  Silas didn’t hesitate. “We have heard it has some power to curse the king of our country. King Selen sent us to investigate these rumors.”

  “Of course.” Samariyosin nodded. Somehow, Jesse knew he didn’t believe them, but he seemed content to accept their false answer. “I can assure you, though, that the obidhala is harmless. The curse is mere legend. How else would you explain Da’armos’ defeat in the War of Palms?”

  “Just the same,” Rae said, “we will speak to the Sheik about it.”

  Before Samariyosin could ask any further questions, one of the armed guards hurried up to him. He said something to the merchant in Da’armon.

  “Amarian Patrol members,” Samariyosin muttered under his breath, spitting contemptuously in the sand. “They ask for my papers every time I pass through a town. That is the problem with being a half-breed: you are not fully trusted by either side.”

  He stood slowly and edged away from the fire, bowing slightly to them. “You will have to excuse me, young guests. I will be back with you soon.”

  Jesse watched him as he made his way to the other side of the camp, where three men were waiting in the shadows beyond the main tent.

  “Why did you ask him about the Scorpion’s Jewel?” Silas demanded, turning to Rae. “I thought we had agreed never to speak of our mission.”

  “How do you expect us to accomplish our mission if we don’t know anything about the territory we’re entering or the object we need to bring back?” Rae took one last sip of soup and delicately wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “I was just gathering information.”

  Will they ever stop bickering? Jesse guessed the answer was no, so he changed the subject. “What do you think of our host?”

  Silas shook his head hard. “I can’t wait to be rid of him. He doesn’t seem trustworthy. No merchant could become this rich by honest means.”

  Rae shrugged. “Dishonest or not, he knows the way to Da’armos. And it will be useful to have a translator with us when we get there.”

  “And what of the Scorpion’s Jewel?” Silas asked. “Do you have any plan to secure this obidhala that he spoke of?”

  “No,” Rae admitted. “Do you?”

  “I hoped we would be able to plan on the journey tomorrow. Only Samariyosin seems to speak Amarian, and he will be at
the head of the caravan. It may be that….”

  “Shh,” Rae hissed, jerking her head toward the tents, “he’s coming back.”

  Samariyosin was indeed scurrying his way across the sand. As he came back into the firelight, Jesse noticed how old and tired he looked. “It is late,” Samariyosin said, as if reading Jesse’s mind. “I am sure you must be weary from your journey.”

  Rae nodded and stood, brushing the sand from her tunic. “It’s been a long day.”

  “I could use some rest,” Silas agreed.

  Jesse stayed where he was. He was used to staying up late, serving guests at the inn. Though he was tired, he was excited too, and a bit frightened, neither of which would be good for going to sleep. So close to Da’armos. And then what?

  “I’ve had three more tents prepared already.” Samariyosin nodded and clapped his hands twice, and two of the light-robed servants seemed to appear out of the darkness at his side. He rattled off a string of commands, and each one escorted Rae and Silas away. Jesse noticed they were taken in opposite directions, and he wondered if that had been part of Samariyosin’s instructions.

  Jesse shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay up a little while longer.” Though they were still in Amarias, there was no curfew in the desert. Jesse enjoyed being out under the stars, especially since night was the only endurable part of the day, when the sun did not burn at his back.

  “Your two friends seem to be more inclined to talk than you,” Samariyosin said. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “My name is Jesse,” he said.

  “Ah,” Samariyosin said. “What does it mean?”

  Jesse blinked. “Nothing. Nothing that I know of, at least.”

  “Ah. I forgot. You are an Amarian,” Samariyosin said.

  Jesse was not quite sure what that meant, and it must have showed on his face. “Here in Da’armos, names have great meaning,” Samariyosin explained. “Mine means, ‘He who has no fear of the night terrors.’”