"Eli´s Journal_part4" by Marijke Mahieu

Morning, Day 155, year 538

Cook brought me an extra slice of bread this morning. I think I strike her as being too skinny and she’s probably right. I could not accept it, though. None of the nomads eat more than one slice a day. Grain is very precious to them and this rare and nutritious component is not handed out lightly. I appreciate the gesture, but it wouldn’t have been right to accept.

I suspect they keep the grain in the covered carts they drag along. Nobody is allowed near them except for the leader and his children. Even cook can’t take what she wants without asking permission first. I’m curious to know what else is in the carts, but I won’t try to find out. I need these people’s hospitality badly and can’t take any chances of turning them against me. I would not survive on my own in this blazing heat and these barren dunes. I should be thankful that they wordlessly have tolerated my foreign and useless presence so far.

To my great surprise water is neither rare nor used sparingly. Their beasts of burden, two short horse-like animals, both carry only two small wooden casks of this precious liquid. They just don’t seem to ever get empty. I don’t know how they manage. Good thing there is enough water though. I’m still not used to the scorching sun and some days I feel like my saliva dries up with every new intake of breath. I have not refused water so far.

Since I fully recovered the nomads have been bringing me a strange type of dried meat. I was reluctant to eat it at first. It smelled strange and was way too ropy to look inviting. My quizzical glances between the plate and those that feed me made them repeat a single word over and over: “norai”. I guess that’s how they call this foreign native food. Luckily it tasted better than it looked and there was plenty to go round. It seems to feature largely in the nomad diet.

The group is busy packing and striking their tents. I think we will move out again soon. Observing them has become my daily occupation. It gives me something to do. And it keeps my mind from wondering about the past and the big blanks in my memory. I pray to the Gods every single night to give me some insight in what could have happened to me, but they have remained silent so far.

Morning, Day 157, year 538

The nomads just keep going on through these endless seas of sand. Every dune looks like the next to me and it took me a while to understand that the leader is guiding his tribe as if he were sailing a ship on the ocean. They navigate on the position of the stars. Clever. I should learn how to do that too. I’ve needed nothing but scent, trees and the animals before to guide my feet, but this new technique holds several interesting possibilities.

I wonder when we will get to meet other people. I know they can’t have grown that grain themselves. They must have traded it. I hope we’ll come across such a trading post soon. Maybe someone will speak my language there so they can tell me where the hell I am and how I can get home.

Maybe someone will have seen my sister. I hope so. I’m getting more and more anxious with every day that passes without news or a clear goal. The dreams don’t cease to come each night. I really don’t understand what they mean, but they do scare me a lot. Oh my sister, if only I knew where you were! I feel helpless in so many ways.

Evening, Day 160, year 538

Something’s wrong. It’s getting very obvious.

I’m not sure what, though. Everyone is acting very nervous. There’s been some commotion around the carts a couple of nights ago. I couldn’t make out what was wrong, but it looked serious. The leader seemed to be able to calm the others down, but I haven’t seen him around much these last hours.

The piece of norai was considerably smaller the last two days. Maybe they are running out of food. There is an extra mouth to feed, after all. I’m painfully aware of that.

I also noticed that we’ve changed directions today. We’re going more north now than before. I can see rock formations on the horizon. It looks like we’re moving closer towards them. I don’t know what’s going on. The tribe is more silent than usual. The children don’t play, but hold their mothers’ hand tightly. Nobody speaks more than necessary, it seems. A certain gloom has taken over this usually light-hearted group.

The leader’s children gathered together in their father’s tent tonight. They stayed in there for quite a long time. When they came out his two sons and two daughters wore a sort of paint marks on their faces. Then they did the most curious thing. They scooped up some sand and slowly let it seep through their fingers into a bowl. Then they started chanting and rocking the bowl. They are still singing while I’m writing this down. I wish I could understand any of the words. The only word I could recognize was “norai” again. They mentioned it several times in the song.

I am used to observe my sister while practicing her magical spells, but this feels so different. Arwana was always eager to tell me about the different energy and power layers of the magical world. I wish I had paid more attention to what she tried to tell me back then. I’m not sure what the nomads are doing right now. It could be magic, but I rather think it’s a religious ritual. And if so, I wonder why they need to please their Gods so badly.

Evening, Day 161, year 538

Norai. I actually know what the word stands for now.

The group didn’t get ready to pack this morning. Since I don’t have a tent of my own and I sleep beneath the star-strewed sky each night, I quickly noticed how the others moved all their belongings inside the tents as early as the first light of day. The leader didn’t come out at all.

Then his children, my Angel among them, appeared from their shared tent. I was utterly amazed to see that they had taken off their special garments. All the nomads, including myself now, wear the magical clothes all day long. They give such a marvelous protection against the blazing heat that everyone is covered with the fabric from head to toe.

But the four of them were almost naked now, only certain parts covered by coarse linen strips. The rest of their bodies were full of strange black markings, resembling those I saw on their faces last night. I think they have been applied with paint, but they could be tattoos too. I’m not sure.

The foursome walked straight to the carts and, to my great surprise, produced four long spears, the first sign of weaponry I’ve seen so far since my stay with them. The spear shafts looked rather crudely made, but a lot of work and care had been put in the stone heads. They were sleek and very sharp, ready to bore a deep hole into whatever quarry the nomads were having their eye on. Without a word and without looking back the four of them, spears in hand, walked away from the encampment and straight towards the rocks ahead of us.

I could no longer sit by on the sideline. Whatever was going to happen, this was a hunt. The air reeked of adrenaline (My sister would probably laugh at this last sentence). And I was not going to miss it. I swiftly picked up my bow and quiver and ran after them.

There was an intense attempt at sign language to tell me no, but I insisted, just as wordlessly as they tried to hold me back. At last the leader came out of his tent, probably alarmed at the commotion. I showed him my bow and kneeled, hoping he would understand that I was offering my services to him and the group. It was the least I could do for these people.

He seemed to think about my proposal for a few seconds, but then gave his children a single nod and moved inside the tent again. The look on their faces told me I was allowed to join them. Finally some action!

Well, I did have to leave the nomad garments which caused some embarrassing moments, but at last I could set out together with the other four hunters, four trained warriors (by the look of their bodies and the swiftness of their pace), four chosen ones. I wonder why exactly these four were chosen. Why the four leader’s children? There were more able-bodied men and women in the group. I wonder if I’ll ever know the answer to that question.

I was not used to running half-naked through the boiling hot desert, but I managed to keep up with them. We reached the rocks sooner than I thought we would. Since there was no way of communication I could not be prepared for what I was going to find there. I just mimicked every move they made and literally tried to run in their footsteps.

The oldest hunter of the four suddenly halted his pace as we reached the first large rock. He motioned us to stay behind him. His eyes were scanning the surface of the rock for a reason I would understand only later. When we silently rounded the first rock and reached a sort of clearing surrounded by stone, I laid my eyes on the creature the nomads called norai.

The norai are canine creatures, smaller than wolves but larger than normal dogs. Their entire body, except for the bare head, is covered with shiny scales that reflect the sunlight and look almost like plated armor. Their bald heads are hideous and resemble those of vultures in a way. The few animals that were visible in the clearing seemed to be sunbathing on the rocks, their scales pulsating softly as if they were feeding on the sunrays, crazy as that might sound. They looked rather harmless and easy prey to me.

I reached behind me towards my quiver to nock an arrow, but my Angel quietly laid her hand on my arm, her head shaking no. Instead we moved towards a single, isolated animal, a sure hit from my hunting experience. This time I waited for them to take the initiative, but just as the head hunter was about to hurl his spear towards the helpless beast, it somehow noticed our presence. What happened then is still something my mind is trying hard to understand. First the animal was there, the next moment it was gone, as if it had evaporated. I saw it appear again a little further in the clearing to alarm the others. I know it sounds insane, but I swear I saw it appear from out of the rock surface, as if it had traveled through the rock substance itself. But I am sure it was the same norai!

Those next few minutes are still a blur in my mind. I can hardly recall what happened. I know the others moved in and started hurling their spears. I scrambled after them as quickly as I could. Many of their weapons hit rock where there used to be a beast a few seconds before. Speed was everything in this game. I managed to shoot several arrows, but they ricocheted off the scales. Only when I witnessed my Angel’s sister slay one of the canines by quickly and smoothly piercing her spear through the soft spot between the eyes of the animal, I knew what to do to get a hit.

There were three norai in view, but once the hunt started, three others appeared out of the rocks. The hunt wasn’t easy, despite what I had been thinking earlier. One of the sons got bitten nastily in the arm at one point. I managed to shoot the animal before it would rip his arm off completely. I think I understand why they chose to remove their clothes. Apart from hindering movement, they are also way too precious to be ripped apart by the beasts. My Angel was in a very dangerous situation as well when one of the norai jumped her from the back out of a rock, but her brother was able to save her before I could even act. The nomad children knew their prey well.

The hunt was over in a few minutes. One of the sons was hurt badly on the arm, the other one had a few scratch marks. I hadn’t noticed that my Angel’s sister had been wounded too. She had three large gaping gashes on her right leg where one of the beasts had driven in a claw. My Angel was unhurt, as was I.

Six dead norai lay at our feet. The moment the animals died, their scales went dull and ceased to shine in the sunlight. I can’t remember much of what happened after that. The short, but very intense hunt had been very exhausting and so was the prospect of having to drag the carcasses back to the camp on our own. I know I collapsed from the effort and the heat of the sun the moment the tents came in view. Someone laid me inside a tent, a new privilege for me, and I slept the hours away.

I’m awake now and wanted to write everything down before I forgot any details of this experience. I’ll go out now to see what the nomads did with the dead animals and if there is anything I can do to help. I’ll write again in the morning.