Return of the Burning Man

Chapter Thirteen

'You and your party are welcome, Sekar'iti. We will not be travelling as far as your village but you are welcome to travel with us until we turn south to take the coast road. We are three main groups and several individuals all travelling together for our collective protection.'

Sekar'iti heard the man's name but for the life of him, he could not recall it.

'We have travelled for nearly a week without seeing anyone and have at all times been concerned with warbands and slavers on these pathways. Once we came across you we were delighted to discover you were travelling in our direction and so we will be pleased to go along with you and share the protection of the party.' Sekar'iti did a rough headcount and thought there were about sixty people in the group. It was also great protection for most of the journey back to Peral'dul but best of all, to Sekar'iti, it was entirely cost-free.

'Give the names of your warriors to Pertan'iti, here. He is the man responsible for organising the group's protection. He will form your men into scouting parties and such, is this not so?' Pertan'iti was a massive man. Very tall and heavily built with long dark hair and dark eyes. His face revealed a man used to fighting, with a large scar from his forehead to his right ear and a well-broken nose. He stood quietly, weighing Sekar'iti up through slitted eyes.

'Well, once we have filled our waterskins and finished our foraging we will head off. Fall in with us at the rear of the line. If there is anything I can help you with, send someone up the line. Until then, good day.'

Sekar'iti turned to his party. 'Give this man the information he needs. Serant'i is not to be included. He has proved too foolish to be trusted.' Sekar'iti stalked off without a further word while the others stared at their boots trying not to catch Serant'i's gaze.

Serant'i spat on the grass and turned before anyone could see his reddening face. He wondered why his father treated him in this way as even this kind of humiliation seemed to give him no pleasure. He would go and find a bow and head off to the forest to hunt for their evening meal.

He knew he was a skilled hunter and would use all his knowledge to find something special for this evening and when they ate what Serant'i had caught the others would pat his back and say 'Well done' but his father would scowl as he ate and throw most of it away.

It had been this way since he had first started to hunt.

He wondered if it would always be this way.

Sothoo bent down and found what she was looking for. With one swing of her arm, she hurled the stone at Raru'iti and caught him squarely on the back of his head. He ducked down not knowing what had hit him then turned to see Sothoo in fits of laughter with Segar'iti and Rathu'i applauding her skilled throw.

'Ah yes, very funny. Why can't you just call my name, Sothoo?' he said, rubbing the back of his skull.

'Because you told me not to, Raru'iti. Did you not?' she replied, hands on her hips.

'I told you to whistle or make bird calls, not throw stones at my head.'

'The stone was easier, anyway I cannot whistle or make bird calls. We have been through this. If you don't want me to call you by name it will have to be stones.'

'Thetant'iti's frozen hell! If this is the way it's going to be my head will end up a mass of lumps and bumps. By the time we get home, my wives will not recognise me! What is it you want anyway?'

'I wish to stop. I am tired and Lolo wishes to feed and find water.'

Raru'iti looked up to the sun and tried to gauge how much light there was left to them.