Days had passed before the terrain changed to include sporadic sinkholes filled with lush vegetation surrounded by the desert rocks. Traveling along the southern slopes of the Ossuary Range, they frequently ran across small streams, which supplied water to the great Volney Lakes. Many of these streams were underground, only exposing themselves in these sinkholes before submerging again.
Brimmelle stopped in his tracks. “Why are we traveling east? The Dovenar Kingdom is west, as well as Farbank.”
“Ro-Volney Lake is east. It is a place of safety for the Ov’Unday.” Grewen adjusted his grip of the two long branches on either side of the litter as he dragged Santorray up the hill. “Salvation for our people.”
Brimmelle scoffed. “Your people? Haven’t we had enough of cities filled with Altereds?”
“It’s good to see how open minded you’ve become,” Grewen joked.
“This entire journey has done nothing but reinforce my belief that Altereds bring confusion and harm to this land.”
“Yes, because the people of Southwind were so much more gentile,” the giant mused.
“Santorray attacked one of their leaders and then they escaped from their prison. Of course they were going to come after us. I consider our meeting with them in the O’Sid fields to be a blessing in an effort to escape those Del creatures.”
Santorray squirmed in his confines as he awoke from his unconsciousness. He began to panic from his inability to move due to tight straps, a feeling he was not comfortable with. “Grewen, free me at once. I can’t take this any longer. I’m going crack someone’s skull if I’m not unrestrained.”
Brimmelle pointed at the Blothrud. “See? Look at the violence inherent in their species.”
Santorray struggled to break free. “You’re first, Brimmelle. When I get out of here, I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Show everyone that I’m right by attacking a defenseless Num half your size?”
“That’s enough, you two.” Thorik stood at the top of a hill as the rest approached. “Grewen, how much farther to safety?”
“We’re close. Just over the next ridge and we’ll be bathing our sore feet in the Ro’Volney Lake.”
Reaching the next main hill opened up an oasis before them. In the center of the desert was a green-trimmed lake full of life. Small beach sand dunes occasionally rolled along the shoreline, hiding the trunks of trees and large plants, but for the most part lush tropical plants filled the outline of the lake.
Huts blended into the vegetation as Ov’Unday species went about their business. Horned Cluppers filled their ivory hollow tusks with water to bring back to the settlement, while Mognins watered fields and harvested crops.
Giant sloth-like creatures slowly roamed the village as they went about their business. Known as Gathlers, this species reminded Thorik of the elderly in their slow methodical movements.
As they approached the first Ov’Unday settlement, the short dark hair on Santorray’s neck stood on end. “They will not let us pass.”
“They won’t let you pass, is what you mean,” Brimmelle said. “After what your species has done to them.”
“Brimmelle, not now,” Thorik ordered.
A few Mognins and one Gathler had spotted the travelers and met them on the edge of the village. The Gathler calmly addressed Grewen as the group’s leader. “Truth be said.”
Grewen responded to the greeting. “Truth be heard.”
“I am Coova, voice of our village.”
“I am Grewen, voice of our pod.”
“How is it you travel with these species?” Coova asked.
“They are my family.”
“Of what family are you?”
“I am Grewen of the Ki’Ov’Unday, but my travelers are my personal family pod.”
“Pod members may dine with us but they are not to pass through these lands. Only pure family can venture beyond to Trewek.”
“We ask for sanctuary. All other paths are blocked by those who wish to see our companion dead.”
One of the Mognins looked past Grewen at the Blothrud tied to the litter. “A death sentence on a Del’Unday is not our issue.”
Grewen smiled. “No, it’s the human who is in this peril. He is the son of Ambrosius.”
“Ambrosius? Why would you bring his tension to our land?”
“The boy is in need of safety. His father no longer can provide it.”
“To invite him in would ask for outsiders to hunt him down in our lands. Why would we risk this?”
“Because we follow the compassion of Trewek. The innocent boy needs our help.”
One of the local Mognins sized up the lad. “Do you request our security?”
“I don’t ask for anyone’s help,” Ericc answered.
“Then none will be granted,” the Mognin replied.
Disappointed in Ericc’s response, Thorik stepped up front. “Just because he doesn’t ask for our help doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it.”
“Truth be said. Continue,” Coova said.
“Ericc is angry at his father and Darkmere. He’s willing to risk his life to vent those feelings. We need time to talk to him and work through this. Time we don’t have out here in the desert.”
Coova’s brows moved slowly down in between his eyes. “We do not wish for you to bring anger into our land. No one will house it. Without shelter, you will be no better off.”
Grewen got a thought and tried a new tactic. “Ambrosius used to live on the south side of the lake, just west of Lagona Falls. He was granted residency.”
Coova methodically nodded. “Truth be heard, but this is not Ambrosius.”
Thorik added to Grewen’s path. “Ericc lived there as well when he was a child, so he is already a resident unless it was revoked.”
“Not that we know of. But we are a long way from such places and would not know of such affairs.”
“But you can’t assume it has been revoked,” Thorik said.
“Truth be heard.”
“So, he should be allowed to travel to his home.”
The Mognins looked at each other before waiting for the Gathler to speak.
Coova mulled the discussion in his mind for a while before finally responding. “Truth be said.”
“Excellent.” Thorik gave a sigh of relief.
“But not the Blothrud,” Coova added.
Thorik couldn’t believe the prejudice of such passive creatures. “He is injured. To leave him out in the desert would be no less than murder.”
“You may travel with him back from where you came. We did not suggest you leave him here to die,” Coova said without empathy for their plight.
“But that would split us up.”
“Truth be heard.”
Thorik’s jaw tightened at the slow emotionless Gathler. “We won’t do that. He’s risked his life for us. He deserves to see this through as much as us. As Grewen said earlier, we’re family.”
“No, you’re a pod. A subgroup attached to a family member, which has not been approved by the collective group. Few non-Ov’Unday are considered to be family. A Del’Unday as a family member would be a sight to be seen.”
Once again, Thorik looked to Grewen for help in getting Santorray past this barrier of prejudice.
Adjusting his hands again on the litter, Grewen suggested an option to give them some time to think about the issue. “Can we partake from the lake’s venue at least until we are rested?”
“With a Blothrud walking free in among our homes and children?”
“Of course not. He would stay confined to the litter.”
One of the Mognin’s addressed Grewen directly. “Grewen of the Ki’Ov’Unday takes responsibility for his bindings staying taut?”
Grewen lifted his shoulders up at attention. “Truth be heard.”
“Truth be said,” Coova replied.
Chapter 33
Blothrud Among Ov’Undays