The Crescent Hour ✓

Chapter 36. Revelations

Outside the barrier, Ashura Deadlands was a desert blighted by sandstorms. Inside, it was a forest overrun by fungi. That wasn’t the most surprising feature of Ashura Deadlands though. It was the rows of slums scattered close to the barrier, hunched together like seaside rocks. Miasma rolled and weaved around the village in thick tendrils of fog.

Clara tightened her grip on the knife at her hip. The difference was unnerving. She had this sudden feeling of being lost, of being unable to distinguish between reality and illusion. She glanced eastward, wondering if there really was a sandstorm brewing out there.  

“Where the hell are we?” Rai asked, walking ahead of them.

“Ashura Deadlands, dimwit,” said Tamer.

“I don’t recall there was any mention of a village here,” Eryx said, pausing over a patchwork of toadstools. “Why would anyone live here?”

No one had an answer and so they followed the sharp curve of a dirt path, walking between wooden shacks in various states of disrepair. Occasionally, Tamer would peer at a window and sniff or bend on the roads in search of tracks.

“It’s empty,” Tamer said. “There’s no one here.”

“What about the seal?” Clara asked.

“Find a tree with thorny fruits,” he said.

Well, that wasn’t helpful. The entire village was filled with plantlife. A light breeze sighed over the slums. It reminded Clara of the keening sounds she'd heard inside the coliseum in Nazim. Pollen grains fluttered in the air like snowflakes, sticking to her suit. A pale figure of a woman appeared from the mist and then another and another. Amidst them, Clara saw strange birds and four-legged creatures, their feet hovering just above the ground.

Aiming a hand at the largest group of ghosts, she sent a blast of magical energy. “Leave us!”

They scuttled away like street rats, some vanishing on the spot. When she shifted her attention to the men, she noticed Rai was gone. He came out of a small hut, the roof partly ruined by giant lichens. There was a beaded necklace in his left hand. He went to the next shack and the next and each time, he carried a necklace similar to the one he’d held before.

Concerned, they followed him into the fourth shack and found Rai holding a staff. He examined it with great care. Clara noticed it was made of copper with various symbols engraved on the handle. A green crystal in the shape of a crescent moon was attached to its tip.

“The necklace…the staff...These are my people,” he said. There was a heaviness to his voice as if it pained him to admit it. “I found them in the shacks. These—” he shook the necklaces in his grip—“are passed on from mother to daughter. Daughter to granddaughter.” He gave the staff to Tamer. “And that belongs to the head of the family as proof of leadership.”

“We can’t be sure of this, Rai,” Tamer said.

“Remember the tale of the lost tribe?” He splayed his palms flat against the table, a small tremble in his shoulders.  “All this time, they were here.”

It all made sense to her now. The villagers were Shima. Another realization probed at Clara’s mind. Why would the king put up a barrier when he knew there were people living in Ashura? Was it just to contain the toxins from spreading out or was there something more to it?

“Did you know about this?” Rai asked, confirming her suspicions. “Did you?”

“No.” Tamer said, shaking his head. “My father never spoke to me about politics. I was too young.”

Rai picked a pot from the table and threw it at the wall in fury. It clattered on the mud floor in broken pieces. “Why were they here? Why?”

Clara could feel his anger. She’d be furious too if she found out her own people had been trapped in Ashura Deadlands. She feared the Shima villagers might be the ghosts they had seen. Locking that thought into the back of her mind, she focused on hope – hope that the villagers were alive.