Kotire

Rocks in the fire

Speak to one another

Archons of the earth

In my bloodstream there is dust

And my breath is in the earth

To it I always call

Through the salt desert

Kotire stepped into the cave with her center of gravity low, her head turned to the side to keep the dust and salt out of her eyes. Gusting wind blew past her back as she entered, and then the force against her abated. She stumbled a little to the right, not expecting the sudden lightness of the wind against her body. With her right hand, Kotire reached up and lowered the hood from her head. The thin, tight-woven meshcloth ran and played like silk between her thick fingers. And she sat down.

Inside the cave, there was a crackling fire. The popping sounds were music to Kotire’s ears. But the others there – they were less enthusiastic about Kotire’s sudden and unannounced presence. “You,” said one of the Vadallat, stepping up from where it squatted by the fire and approaching her. “What brings you through our territory, handless human woman?”

Kotire glanced down at her left arm, at the stump where it ended, a blade attached to what was once her wrist. Then back up at the Vadallat. Insect-like antennae stood up through the top of its close-cropped yellow hair, twitching toward the back of its head. Kotire swallowed her pride and smiled. “I am just a traveler,” she said, “looking for something.”

“Running from something, more like,” one of the other Vadallat called out, sitting by the fire. This one stood up, and its hair was red and blue flame. It hugged itself as it stepped away from the fire, shivering despite the ambient heat. “Little news of the world reaches us here, but even we hear things from time to time. You are a Crescian Abrist. I sense that heat from you.”

Kotire blinked and shook her head, not in denial but light confusion. “Yes,” she murmured. “But I am looking for something. I’m going to Almaydase.”

“There’s nothing for you there,” the insect-like Vadallat said, stepping laterally to where Kotire stood. “There’s nothing for you in the salt desert. You should turn back and return to your lands. No war lasts forever.”

“I’ve had enough of war,” Kotire said, holding up the arm where once there had been a hand. The insect Vadallat snorted derisively, jerked an antenna toward Kotire’s left arm to indicate the knife blade protruding from where her hand had once been.

“Don’t tell me you’re a pacifist now,” it growled.

“Well, the road is dangerous,” Kotire countered. “I must defend myself somehow. There are strange beasts in this desert – flying things, fiery things, things that defy description…”

“and yet you chose to come here. The salt desert is not your home, it’s ours.” The Vadallat let out a slow breath. “And now you come and seek refuge in our cave, to hide from the storms outside.”

“Yes,” Kotire said. “I seek Almaydase. Your home city, no?”

“No.” The fiery Vadallat said it simple and quiet, but its voice still cut through the space between it and Kotire and left her unable to argue.

“Alright,” she said. “Then not your home. Anymore?”

“Anymore,” the insect Vadallat allowed, warily.

Kotire inched toward the fire, holding her hand up, fingers spread out in what she hoped they’d understand as a gesture of peace and deference. “May I sit?”

“Yes,” the fiery Vadallat said, and sat back down itself.

“I heard a rumor about this land,” Kotire said. “When I was fighting to free myself from the war in the west. The rumor said that there was a Chronicler here who had taken an interest in the fight that led to this war. I… have little allegiance to anything anymore.” Kotire shrugged. “But I fought with the Adma for many years. If this Chronicler wishes to know, I can… instruct.”

The insect Vadallat sat down beside Kotire. “That is not our concern,” it said. “We are no longer willing servants to the Chroniclers. Let them carry themselves, if they can.”

Kotire blinked. “But they can’t. They’re not physically capable –“

“That is no longer my problem,” the Vadallat said firmly. “If you wish to speak to the Chroniclers, you’ll have to make it to Almaydase. When the air is clear, you’ll leave this cave. You won’t speak of this place to anyone you meet. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kotire said without hesitation.

“Good.” The fire Vadallat smiled. “You’re telling the truth. I’m glad I don’t have to kill you. It would be… inconvenient, and you look tough to kill.”

“It’s really that important that no one in Almaydase knows you’re here?” Kotire asked. “Would they come after you?”

“Probably not.” The one with the antennae shrugged. “But if it were you, would you risk it?”

She could not answer. So she waited by the fire, visualizing in the back of her mind the great mesa she knew she’d have to reach before her water and food ran out. The Vadallat gave her bread for the evening, and when it became clear that the storm would not go away till morning, they gave her a spot in the cave to sleep. Lying at the edge of wakefulness, staring into the darkness of the deeper cavern, Kotire was sure she could see a hundred opal-green eyes watching her from the shadows.