A wide grin lit up Antonin’s face as he rode, lying low along his horse’s back. The ground was flying by beneath the horse’s hooves. They seemed to barely touch the ground. Looking past the wind whipped mane at his friend pulling away ahead of him, Antonin couldn’t help but admire her riding skill. She too was stretched out along her horse’s back. The saddle used by the Maidens was little more than a strip of leather with short leather stirrups, yet she seemed glued to the horse’s back. He had grown up with Catharina, and although he was only a year older, it seemed to him sometimes that she was the eldest. She was nearly as tall as Antonin and he was head and shoulders above all the young men of the district. Yet she would glance at him in passing, with a secret little smile in the corners of her mouth and her dark almond eyes crinkling, and leave him stumbling. Catharina looked back over her shoulder, her long black hair streaming out behind her. A laughing shout came back to Antonin and he let out a wailing ululation in reply, thumping his horse’s flanks with his ankles in hopes of catching up. He knew it was a lost cause, but they were out to race to the Great North Road and Catharina had started it. She had come pounding by on her horse as he had been ambling along the wide dusty road that wandered out from the village. Antonin had been going home to the farm. His father was no doubt waiting for him even now to finish his daily chores. The last of the day’s work was instantly forgotten as the flashing dark eyes and long brown limbs of his friend filled his sight. In an instant they were thundering across the great plain that was their world. The Star Field Plain it was called and although it was part of Da Altai and bordered on Xiao Altai, the Queen’s Guard was rarely seen in the land. The village of Xu Gui was the only village to be found this far out on the great plain, and it was so remote that few people even knew it existed. Far ahead of the racing pair away to the west lay the Blasted Lands. Access was all but impossible to these forbidding lands. The massive and formidable mountains of the Dragon Spine lay at the edge of the plain, a week’s hard ride west of the village of Xu Gui. They formed a barrier that curved north and east for as far as anyone had ever travelled, and to the south in a tumbled wilderness of jagged peaks and escarpments all the way to the Sea of Storms. The smoking mountain of Sara Sara was deep in the Blasted Lands. Even on a clear day it could not be seen, being far over the horizon. Occasionally travellers or sheep herders would report seeing smoke smudges on the distant horizon. It was as rare as travelling peddlers though, and the mountain was generally forgotten about.
“The Great North Road would be coming into sight soon.” Antonin thought. “I’ll never catch her!” He eased back on the reins a little to spare his horse. It was a long ride out to the Great North Road, and as he knew he could not win he would be content just to stay in touch with Catharina. Almost immediately Catharina began to slow just a little. She knew without looking that Antonin has eased the pace. Her laughter came back to him on the wind again. She was so full of life and the simple joy of living that Antonin thought his chest would burst with pride for her.
In an age before memory, an age only whispered about in legend and story, it was said a great battle had taken place in the Blasted Lands between the Light and the Dark. The evil one, the Dark Lord had lost the battle in that age, and even still was confined to his prison. Chained in the Great Wheel of Sara Sara. A huge millstone in the heart of the mountain, rotating on an axis that passed right through the world. It was said that the smoke that issued from the mountain was caused by heat from the wheels turning. The Dark Lord was sealed in a chamber in the wheel. The warriors of the long dead Dragon Armies in a past age had imprisoned him and his minions there. The wheel rotated an inch in a thousand years the stories said – it would be many ages before the Dark Lord’s chamber was again exposed. No one knew when the stories had been written. No one knew when that age had been. Only the Blasted Lands and Sara Sara still remained.
Not thinking of any of this, the youngsters raced across the High Plains of Da Altai. It was nearing time to be home. Time to help with the evening tasks. Animals to feed, horses to attend to, wood to chop. The daily life of farm and village that was governed by the seasons. There was always something to be done, and the sun seemed to linger on the horizon some days as though loath to depart. Antonin was a farmer’s son. Antonin’s mother was ever patient, like all farmers wives. She knew her life was to support her husband by running a smooth household. She knew also that Antonin was deeply attracted to Catharina. Even though in his youth he didn’t realise the depth of that attraction.
Catharina was some way ahead of Antonin, nearing the Great North Road. He didn’t want to slow down too much. She would surely pour scorn on him. Sometimes he was at a loss with the village girls, and it was worse with the Warrior Maidens. Let them win a race, and they laughed at you for being weak. Win at all cost, and they pouted and would not talk to you for a week. Or worse, just flick their hair over their shoulders and walk away all stiff and proud. It was all very confusing.
Catharina thundered across the Great North Road in a shower of stones and sparks from its black surface. Antonin slowed his horse to a walk as he approached the road. The Great North Road ran across the wide plains of Da Altai, from South to North, as straight as an arrow in flight. The country of Xiao Altai lay far to the South, and was seldom visited by the local people. No one went to the North. At least none went north willingly, and then went no further than the city of Ha Hu on the far side of the pass through the Dragon Spine Mountains. Beyond that lay the Great Sandy Blight. Far in the north, the Great Sandy Blight began as small dunes, then rapidly became a sea of moving dunes that none had been known to cross, and few returned from. No one knew its boundaries.
The people of Antonin’s community and the people of the village where Catharina lived knew only a steady and productive life. The village was called Xu Gui. It had a stream that ran by on the western side. Weeping willows lined the banks. The village focal point was an inn that served as a meeting place for the villagers and the wider community. The Dog and Girl inn fronted onto the village common, and served well mostly for what it was. The place where people came for a jug of ale, to listen to travelling song men and story-tellers, and to listen to the men who drifted by on rare occasions, with tales to tell of strange events in faraway places. It was even rumoured that the Queen herself had once stayed at the inn. No one believed that though.
Catharina had ridden hard. She was a little annoyed with Antonin. She had seen him slow his horse and thought that he was losing just to please her. “Antonin, just you wait.” She cried. Laughing, Antonin managed his horse as it sidled and stepped across the black surface of the road. Catharina now sat her horse some distance on the far side. “Wait?” he called. “I could wait until the Wheel turns.” They were now a little to the west of the Great North Road and sat their horses, facing the homeward direction. Catharina glared at Antonin. Her horse whickered at sensing her unrest. A small dust cloud raised around them both, seemingly out of nowhere. “Don’t you know better than to speak of such things!” Said Catharina. The horses stood puffing and blowing. Antonin looked at Catharina. Even when she was angry, she was beautiful, but he knew better than to say anything. He had tried that once, and earned himself a whack across the shoulders with her spear haft. Catharina was a Warrior Maiden, and had little time in her life for what she saw as the soft ways of the village girls.
Catharina belonged to the Stone Lion sept, the hardest of them all. There were no men in the septs of the Maidens, they had their own societies. All fought side by side in war though, and all belonged to the larger group, the clan. Not a tribe, although some used this term in a sneering manner. Never within the hearing of the warriors though.
The people of Da Altai lived in villages, or on small farms. They were all old Altarins, and from the youngest child to the oldest person were fierce in battle, and hard working in peace. The villages were few and small, scattered thinly across the vast upper plain of Da Altai. The farms were mostly clustered within a day or two’s ride of villages. It was said that in ages past the people had truly been in tribal groups, and wandered their vast plain seeking water and food for their herds of horses. Legends told of an age before memory began, when the Altarins had been part of a great warrior nation. Back in the days of the Dragon Lord. It was just legend though, and a great tale for the children. Horses still served as a mark of a man’s wealth. Possession of goods counted for little in this practical society, and the warriors had no need of anything other than their weapons and horses when they needed them. The villages all had smiths, and weapon makers. The warriors could make their own weapons and their lives depended on it. They were part of the village and farm community. The guardians of peace on the plains. Antonin sat his horse now, thinking to himself and smiling.
“One day I’ll figure out what it is I’m supposed to say to a girl, that doesn’t make her angry – or worse, scornful.”
The horses cooled in the settling afternoon air, starting to fidget and side step about each other. Catharina hadn’t spoken for minutes. Simply looking at each other with faint smiles. Neither would openly admit it of course, but they were both young and in the prime of life, and took a great deal of pleasure from simply being in each other’s company.
“Antonin.” Said Catharina finally. “You worry me sometimes with your disregard for the teachings of the Elders.” She spoke now without heat though and Antonin felt he needed to explain.
“Catharina.” He said. “It is not that I lack respect for the Elders, the teachers, but the old stories have been much on my mind lately.”
Catharina just gave a quiet “harrumph!” and looked at Antonin with a steady gaze. He was a thinker, and she recognized this. Even if she was a bit concerned at times that he did too much thinking for his own good. “Well, it’s true Catharina.” He continued on regardless. “You have seen Sara Sara with your own eyes just this last week.”
Catharina still gave him only a grunt in reply. She could be infuriating at times. All this did was loosen Antonin’s tongue even more. “You saw the mountain, same as I did. Same as the other Stone Lions did. Same as the Water Carriers did.” Antonin’s horse sidled away and back as Antonin’s voice rose in pitch. It thought another chase was in the making.
“The stories all say that when Sara Sara smokes and thunders, then the prison wheel of the Dark Lord is turning.”
A little embarrassed at his outburst, Antonin snapped his jaw shut and scowled at Catharina. “Why won’t the girl answer me?” He wondered under his breath. He should have known better.
Catharina swung her horse around, almost unseating Antonin as the horse’s head swept by him. Catharina leant in close, her scent filling Antonin’s head. With a steely glint in her eyes, but a rapidly forming smile on her lips, she shouted, “Because I leave the talking to you - farmer!” Kicking Antonin’s horse in the rump, she spurred her own mount away across the plain toward the Great North Road that they had crossed at a gallop, only minutes before. Antonin’s horse; Asifa – Storm in the old language – had been expecting sudden movement and in less time than it took to blink was at top speed, thundering after Catharina and her horse. The chase was on again. The high spirits of the two young people, a farmers boy and a young Warrior Maiden were matched only by their high spirited mounts.
Catharina was some way ahead, and looked like she might hold the lead all the way to the road. Suddenly Antonin’s horse faltered in its stride. Asifa never stumbled or faltered on a race but now he stopped dead in his tracks, almost throwing Antonin over his head. It was only because Antonin was a born rider that he managed to stay on. The horse stood stiff legged, the whites of his eyes showing as he rolled them about, trying to look in every direction at once.
Then Antonin heard it. A low, deep rumbling in the earth, apparently from the direction of the Dragon Spine Mountains. Within moments a wave of sound passed beneath Antonin’s horse, speeding onwards to the east. Rapidly catching up with Catharina. She was now almost back to the Great North Road. Antonin and his horse didn’t move a muscle. Both seemed to be holding their breath. Even the insects normally chirruping in the short grasses and low vegetation were silent.
As though something had slowed down time, Antonin watched helplessly as Catharina’s horse suddenly stumbled and pitched into the dust. Catharina sailed over the falling horse’s head. She had just glanced back looking for Antonin and was not prepared for the sudden fall. All went quiet across the plain save the distant, disappearing rumble of the sound wave moving through the plain toward the Four Ways – the branch road near the village – and on toward the farms and village.
Neither Catharina nor Khrif her horse moved. As if awoken by a pail of cold well water, Antonin suddenly spurred his horse into full stride, racing to where Catharina lay unmoving on the dusty plain. With only yards to go, he saw Catharina’s horse Khrif struggle to her feet. Stamping and snickering, she was ready for flight in an instant, but with Catharina still on the ground and not moving, Khrif stayed with Catharina. The bond between horse and rider had been built since they were both youngsters. Khrif meant Autumn in the old language, and noted the time that both Catharina and her horse had been born. Antonin slid Asifa to a halt and leapt from the saddle in one motion. Quickly he ran his eye over Catharina. She appeared to have no broken bones that he could see and only a small trickle of blood from a graze on her forehead. Her breathing was shallow though, and Antonin was at a loss for what to do. Quickly he grabbed the goat skin water bag from his saddle and trickled a small stream over Catharina’s forehead, washing away the traces of blood.
They had both taken many a fall from their horses over the years, but Antonin could not remember one so bad as this. Being thrown forward from a horse running at full gallop like this was not a common event.
The maidens of the Stone Lion Sept wore kid leather trousers, ankle length and close fitting or they wore shorts of the same material. Today Catharina wore short pants and leather chaps. The same tan coloured leather made up a sleeveless vest laced up the front, from waist to the collarless edge of a scoop across her breasts. The Maidens all wore a long sleeved blouse beneath the vest, with puffy sleeves. The whole outfit was topped by a wide belt looped over one shoulder, the belt used to hold a short bow and quiver. A narrow waist belt held a small pouch and a good hunting knife. Antonin loosened the top laces of Catharina’s vest. She still hadn’t stirred after a few minutes, although her breathing had steadied. Antonin moved her finally, lifting her head and placing it on the coolness of her own half full water bag. The horses had settled, grazing on the short grasses of the plain. The sun was slowly moving down the arch of the high dome of the sky. It would be night all too soon. Antonin paced back and forth beside the prostrate Catharina. He tried to ignore the thin wisps of smoke he could see from the direction of the Great North Road. It was only a few minutes he paced, but the worry made it seem like hours. Finally deciding that it may actually be hours before Catharina awoke by herself, Antonin bent to scoop her up in his arms and ride with her back to the farm. He was very strong. Years of hard work had seen to that, and with no effort he scooped her up and carefully edged alongside his horse. Clicking signals with his tongue, Antonin had the horse kneel and roll to its side. Carefully he lifted one leg and slid astride the saddle, and with gentle clicking of his tongue had the horse rise to its feet, carrying him and Catharina with it. Antonin was now firmly in the saddle, Catharina cradled in his strong arms, her head resting on his shoulder.
Antonin used his knees to guide the horse toward home. Catharina’s horse following along a few paces behind as if used to doing this every day.
As he approached the Great North Road Antonin could see the smoke tendrils issuing from cracks in the black surface. No one knew what the black material was. It had always been there. Badly cracked and worn along the edges and crazing all across its surface the black road surface had defied all weathering for as long as anyone could remember. It was a remnant of an age past, and a mystery.
“And now it has smoke coming from it!” muttered Antonin under his breath.
“You do a lot of muttering these days, farmer” said Catharina, nearly startling Antonin into dropping her.
“Do you intend carrying me all the way to The Four Ways?” she asked, “Or can I regain my own horse – please?”
Catharina was not at all upset to find herself in Antonin’s arms, and in truth still felt like she had been rolled over by a Trader’s wagon. She had to admit that she rather enjoyed the feel of Antonin’s strong arms around her as well. As if struck by lightning at that thought she struggled upright and leapt from the horse, landing unsteadily on her feet.
“Don’t you ever pick me up again!” She stammered, dusting herself off quite unnecessarily. “I’m quite capable of looking after myself. Why, you think I’d never taken a tumble before.” Catharina stopped with her mouth open, slowly flushing red up to the roots of her dark hair. She realized she was prattling like a village girl. Which only made her worse. Snapping her jaw shut, she swung up into her own saddle. “It's all your fault for calling on the Forbidden One.” She said. The note in her voice boded ill for any reply Antonin might be foolish enough to make.
Shaking his head, and making sure he said nothing aloud he wondered about the sanity of the female of the species.
“We should see what is happening over there?” He pointed to the black surfaced road, smoke drifting from cracks in its surface. Antonin was not that keen to go anywhere near it. The smoke looked too much like the smoke that issued from Sara Sara. Black oily tendrils that once risen above the road seemed to settle quickly back as though too heavy with its own foulness to rise further.
“We have to cross in order to make for home anyway.” Said Antonin. Catharina gave him a look that clearly said ‘stating the obvious again?’
Together they gently nudged their horses forward toward the black ribbon of the road. It was much too wide to jump the horses over, being a good four spans wide.
As they drew up to the edge it was plain the cracks were the result of the strange sound they had heard. The cracks weren’t wide in any place they could see and followed each other in either direction away along the road. It was as if the road had been pulled from either side by some giant force until it split in a crazy pattern. Where the smoke came from they could not even guess at. Neither wanted to even think about it.
The horses seemed unconcerned, if a little wary, and as they stepped out onto the road seemed less concerned about the smoke than their riders were.
Catharina led the way. Her horse Khrif was picking its way past and over the cracks. Antonin followed close behind on Asifa and soon they were on the homeward side. Antonin turned his horse to look back at the road. Catharina was alongside and silent.
“What’s that?” Antonin cried. As they watched, a huge wagon with a Trader at the reins came thundering into sight along the road. The team of six were foam flecked and wild eyed. The wagon banged and thundered over the cracks. How the horses kept their feet was a wonder. It was obvious the Trader was having trouble controlling the team, and although neither Antonin nor Catharina could imagine a Trader being terrified, the wild-eyed look on the face of the approaching man was not mirth. His team was out of control. There were pieces falling from the wagon, and it was apparent that it was breaking up. It would not last much longer at this rate, and that spelt disaster for the Trader.
The Traders roamed across the lands and when they came to a village they held people enthralled with their stories of places far away with strange people and even stranger customs.
Outsiders rarely came by the villages on the plain. Too far from the trade routes and even the Queens tax collectors seemed to have forgotten the existence of the villages.
As the Trader's wagon thundered along the road toward them, Antonin could see that unless the horses were halted, they would run all the way to the Great Sandy Blight far to the north.
“We should try and help, Catharina.” Said Antonin.
“Perhaps if we help, he will come to our village to trade!” Replied Catharina. “Although I think we will get little thanks from a Trader.”
“Well,” said Antonin “we can’t let the horses kill themselves with fear and we may learn more of this strange event if we stop him and ask.”
By now the team and wagon had drawn closer. The dust haze around it being added to by clouds of dust raised by the wagon’s passage.
“Ride to a position at their head.” Called Antonin as he quickly stepped his horse back over the road.
He turned Asifa and began a canter in the same direction as the wagon travelled, Catharina doing the same on her side. Just before the leaders of the wagon team drew level Antonin shouted “Now Catharina!” and urged Asifa into a full gallop. Steadily he and Catharina paced the leaders and drew in close alongside. Together they reached for the traces on the horses and as they hauled back to slow the team they began slowing their own mounts as well.
The team was well trained. Antonin noted that although the horses were terrified nearly out of their wits, the sight of other horses running with them and the steady pressure of the slowing pace began to calm them. Within moments the horses began to notice their surroundings and the terror left their eyes. Catharina and Antonin brought them to a halt. The horses stood now with legs splayed and chests heaving drawing in the cold air of the plains. The Trader sat on the high wagon seat, puffing and blowing nearly as loudly as the horses in his team. Wiping the sweat from his eyes and forehead with a large kerchief he kept a wary eye on the two riders. To his eye they were little more than savages, and he had come across their kind more than once in his long travels. The meetings had sometimes not been happy ones.
With the horses stopped now, puffing and blowing, Antonin rode back to a position a spear’s length from the wagon. Catharina stayed at the head of the team. She had an arrow nocked in her short bow now, although it rested casually on her brown knee.
Traders had a reputation for acting first and asking questions later. If the person being questioned was still alive to be asked! A Trader coming upon a Maiden of the Stone Lion sept would be especially wary. Even if she was in the company of someone who appeared to be a farmer.
Antonin’s clothes were of course farmers cloths. Simple serviceable breeches of linen, loose fitting for coolness. His shirt was the same material. The shirt was laced up the front with leather thong, and the only decoration was the family crest stitched into the shirt above his heart. Every male in Da Altai wore the family crest above his heart. In battle or raid a blow to the heart was struck at the family as well. This had ensured that clan feuds were often longstanding affairs. Such a death in battle was considered differently. To get close enough to a man to strike him through the heart required great skill and courage. Much honour accrued to the warriors who were able to accomplish such a feat and survive themselves. Storytellers had endless tales of heroes from past battles who had brought much honour to their respective houses and to themselves. The Spear Maidens would sing the praises of their fallen during festivals.
The Maidens of the Stone Lion Sept, of the Altai clan were known far and wide. The Trader had met them before. He had concluded long ago that they did not have a sense of humour at all. They were universally feared. Their reputations were well deserved. The Maidens were relentless enemies, giving no quarter and could – and would run down even mounted foe. A steady ground burning pace could put battle hardened septs into any part of the realm in a matter of days.
The Trader said nothing. The wagon was covered with a huge canvas canopy, tightly bound on front and sides. It was not possible to guess what was in the wagon.
“The Queens peace be with you Trader.” Antonin spoke his greeting quietly. His eyes closely watching the Trader’s grey eyes for tell tale signs of intention.
“The Queens peace be with you farmer – and with your friend.” The slight hesitation in adding the last did not go unnoticed. The Traders eyes flicked to Catharina and back to Antonin. The smoke issuing from the cracks in the road curled up around the wagon and horses. The horses were restive now, looking warily at the smoke.
“Best move your wagon off this road trader.” Antonin stepped his horse backwards, not taking his eyes off the Trader until Asifa was well away from the wagon.
The Trader looked at Catharina. There was uncertainty in his eyes. Catharina backed away. She was on the village side of the road.
"Swing this way Trader,” she called. “Perhaps you will have time to visit our village?”
It was more of a statement than a question and the Trader knew it. Gently he shook the reins and guided the team to the right, swinging team and wagon onto the dusty soil of the plain. Antonin appeared right alongside the Trader.
“Where are your guards Trader?” he asked.
Traders travelled without guards, and Antonin knew it.
“They will be with me in but a moment farmer.” The Trader was plainly nervous. He licked his lips and all the while mopping his forehead. Everyone knew Traders had no guards.
“When the earth shook and rumbled they went to investigate the source.” The Trader may even have hoped it was so.
“Ha!” exclaimed Antonin. “More likely they are still heading south Trader – if indeed there ever were any guards.” The Trader did not rise to the insult. Antonin noted this and wondered what it was that was keeping the normally fierce Trader quiet. Antonin trotted his horse out to Catharina standing some little distance away.
“Do you see any sign?” he asked her.
“Nothing Antonin. There is no one else close to us. The Trader however is greatly feared of something. I don’t think it is us. I would like to know what is in that wagon.” Catharina gave a little frown and added. “Or who.” Antonin looked from her to the wagon. The Maidens all possessed the gift of sensing others. It was necessary to have it to be accepted. Some even had greater abilities, but all could sense other humans even at great distance. The older women long retired from the warrior bands didn’t even need to concentrate. Their abilities grew with their age. Antonin had heard that these women were able to bring down lightning and cause objects – even enemy – to burst into flame! He doubted it himself though. The Story Tellers were very good at embellishing their tales to impress country folk and children alike. Antonin trotted his horse back to the Trader. “You will follow us to the village, Trader?” He said. “It is but a hand spans ride east of here.” Antonin held his hand up, palm outward toward the setting sun. Three hand spans – the width of his hand three times – would see the sun below the horizon. It would be dusk when they arrived at the village in any case.
“There you can rest and feed your horses. Yourself as well at The Dog and Girl.” Said Antonin.
Catharina rode in close. “You have nothing to fear from us Trader.” She said. “But perhaps we had all best be gone from here.” She looked about her, taking in the smoking road, the dusty haze hanging in the normally crystal air of the plain. Suddenly her eyes took in a vast billowing cloud on the far horizon. The cloud was very distinct, even though partially obscured by the dust haze and the setting sun. The cloud was as black as night and rose billowing straight into the sky. It must have been very high to be seen from here. There could be only one source. Sara Sara. Catharina stared into the distance. Her eyes were as big as saucers, straining her senses to find any trace of what the disturbance was. Just as Antonin rode up alongside to see what Catharina was doing, her gaze seemed to be transfixed on the far horizon. Suddenly she reeled back in the saddle with a shriek that made his hair stand on end.
Catharina flung her horse about and gave a wild yell. “The Dark Lord stirs.” In an instant she was racing toward the village. Antonin heeled his horse around with a last glance at the horizon where the smoke cloud was clearly visible now, towering into the sky.
“Move your team Trader.” He yelled as he sped by the wagon. “Move them for your life man.”
The Trader needed no urging. His horses were already restless and anything that would make a Maiden shriek and flee for her life was enough for him. He didn't even look back. He raised his long whip and the air crackled above the horses heads. The land was flat if slightly undulating and good ground for a wagon, even a damaged one. Within moments the trio were streaming across the wide plain toward the village and outlying farms. Antonin tried his best to catch Catharina. She was almost flat along her horse, her head low by the horses neck as she urged Khrif on. She was the picture of speed and Antonin knew he had no chance of catching her.
“What had she seen?” Antonin wondered. He too had seen the vast black cloud billowing up from Sara Sara, but Catharina’s reaction was that of someone who had faced the Dark Lord eye to eye. There were strange things happening this day. Thunder rolling through the earth. The great North Road cracking and smoking. Sara Sara billowing more smoke than had ever been seen from it. It was many days ride to the distant Dragon Spine Mountains that formed a barrier before the lands that held Sara Sara. The mountain itself lay deep in the Blasted Lands. “The creatures that inhabited that landscape would be in some turmoil now.” Thought Antonin. He sped across the plain in pursuit of Catharina.
The Trader and his wagon had fallen some way behind by now but he stayed true to the direction of the village by following the dust cloud raised by the horses of Catharina and Antonin. Whatever was happening he wanted no part of being out on the open plain alone in the gathering night. The Trader was a big man and as tough as any of his kind. The nomadic life the Traders led was not an easy one. They had passage rights in all lands. The only place they never went was the Blasted Lands. There was no trading to be had there. There was not a living soul there to trade with. Certainly none that could be called human.