Chapter 10: Sweet Milk & Bitter Figs

Crimson-orange daylight spilled over Buriti's rusty sandstone bluffs, quickly chasing away the brief starlit respite of my forsaken trek. The lifeless chill clinging to my ragged clothes quickly yielded to the rising desert furnace. I had been already walking for 2 hours assuming it had just turned night....but my cave adventure--that I still don't believe to be tangible--had seemingly taken most of the precious hours of the night I needed to survive the day-long quest back to the capital. 

I had hoped to use Twilight's blanket to conceal my expedition home after the mysterious caverns. But my feeble legs had only sufficed to wander in dazed circles around the lightless cave I had awoken in. Now I had no fucking cover from the blinding heat nor the roving bands of Predatory beasts.

With each treacherous baking minute, mirages shimmered higher over the yawning waste painting dreams of azure oasis pools I knew were only psychosomatic daydreams of my dehydrated mind - their beauty hiding seductive death for wayward nomads and critters alike. I dared not chase such fabrications far having so narrowly dodged the true oblivion underground....though the searing pain had left my hand underneath the skin it felt like a scarab violently had burrowed its way into my left palm. 

 With only a glinting obsidian knife shard and numbing pain to affirm that ordeal with fathomless amber eyes, trembling doubts resurfaced. Had I truly brushed divinity and lived? Or mere madness from blows to the skull, despite no wounds remaining....if the encounter with the watery goddess was mere speculation, had I ever even slayed the mighty ape beast? 

The lifeless chalky Buriti vista offered no answers as dunes folded over endlessly for miles- only endless shifting white sand and red cracked clay between me and the shattered capital looming over reality itself in the distance.

The Buriti sun finally broke over the dunes, unleashing relentless waves of heat reaching 110 degrees as I stumbled onwards. Thirst and exposure clawed my parched throat with each toiled gate. Step after endless steps of barren sand surrounded me - no signs of life or shelter. My dreads dripped with sweat and hung low over my eyes. At least my Vascan thick hair and dark skin offered some protection from the exhaustive endeavor.

Delirium from the deadening atmosphere threatened to overwhelm my last gasps of discipline to continue north under my cupped hand and swaying hair. Just as green specks blotted my vision, a distant shambled wagon crested a large dune. 

With my remaining strength, I attempted to rasp a plea toward the blotchy black spots encompassing my eyesight. ".....' nothing croaked from my sun-scorched throat as I collapsed heavily onto my knees. As my eyesight waned I was able to clearly see the occupants of the wagon from the vantage of my burning knees. 

The caravan of some ambulatory traders silently halted at my deteriorated body, crumpled in the sand and staring with solar-drenched eyes. Through the haze, I made out the cautious angular face of the blonde Svet patriarch accompanied by his olive-skinned Doigan wife. Behind huddled two travel-weary companions I assumed were their children but were close to my age- a shy Buriti native and an inquisitive daughter bearing both her parents' alien characteristics. I reached a shakey hand out to them as my voice still eluded me.

The empathy in the basket-colored mother's gazes swayed compassion in me as she drew me into the shade of their wagon with her strange diverse family. Cold durik milk was poured onto my scorched forehead as the Dorigan mother articulated softly. "What are you doing playing in the sands boy?" It appeared that either she was the bravest outsider to roam the dunes....or possibly they hadn't recognized me as the last remaining Vascan--Certainly not their new monarch. 

devoid of trees to produce paper and our rejection of the Svet's infernal 'radio' signals all news was passed word of mouth or by traveling bands, be it merchants or nomads; It was a way for them to make a quick coin and also deciminate information to the vast rustic population.

 But my mentality and throat were too parched to twirl some fucking deception - I could only gravely rasp my guttural gratitude at their spontaneous hospitality. As the frail wagon began climbing another blinding dune gradually.

The father observed me with vigilant icy Svet reticence, his heavy northern accent making it difficult to comprehend his silky voice. "The lanky little dirt vulture probably abandoned his post...Look at his stupid little martial doodads." I didn't oppose as he seized my gray nobility shirt and then let go succinctly after a moment. Luckily due to the incessant infighting nobility and soldiers had begun sharing apparel rather recently.

"Oh Yovik, don't act like you hadn't have done the same years ago...we should bring him at least to Bastion Ultima" the mother intervened with her people's ancestral warmth known as a weakness of the Doigan southerners - though I seemed a vagrant turncoat devastated by the merciless Buriti wilds, she eyed me with a deep kindness not even my own late mother could conjure for me. 

"Aye, but once the boys not sol-bloated he is paying me back...." He gruffly clambered from the carriage and took his spot leading the large tamed duriks through the deep shuffling sands. The son had been leading them solo and slowly to the crest of a large dune gently as I peeked past the two women eying me with distasteful sockets of pity. 

 "Ma why do the natives wander the desert....it seems like they don't know what good for 'em" The mixed girl was treating this like an autopsy of some creature, my voice had been my most powerful weapon since my ascension, and now all I could do was croak dust and blink my dry ass eyeballs. 

"The Buriti people know nothing else but to wander my love--Your brother is a glowing example...we found him in similar straights near the capital." She silently yet lovingly looked toward the Buriti boy she claimed was her offspring. "Men just do not know how to speak freely of their feelings without also feeling overextended more often than not."

It seemed like she was fighting back tears as she softly clutched her daughter's hand between her fingers. "Svets and Buritians are both very hardy yet stubborn people you know that...Years of harsh climate of two extremes have molded them into two sides of the same rusty sheckle." Now I don't know if they always yammered on this much but I felt like a peeping ear prickling of a vapid noble at court gossip with each word of the mother's life lesson.

"When we were in Bastion years ago Pa said he nearly was run out...I am not looking forward to more ass-pinching natives either." The daughter looked like she'd spit on me at an instant's notice but just retained her mom's hand tightly. "We could always move to Doigan it's just a couple months voyage from Bastion...Why not I try to speak with Pa about-" 

My weighty eyes slid close with such ease I couldn't listen to the tail end of their conversation. I fell into an ebony void of soundless crashing waves once more. Soft swaying wood was my crib as exhaustion overtook me.

As we journeyed miles north, they gradually nursed me back to lucidity. Visions from the caverns still swirled mystically, inseparable from waking life. I knew once reaching Bastion Ultima, denying that divine warning about drowning Buriti in a flooding deluge would prove simple enough when I returned to normalcy, strong fig beer in hand.

The jostling wagon delivered me to the Sand Hound nomadic caravan band - their roving merchant collective that followed the migrating durik herds across Buriti's harsh landscape while trading their vital milk to cities on the way. By mid-day, we caught up to the 40 lumbering beasts bearing overflowing disgusting pink udders.

We off-loaded beneath green mesh canopies, shielding us vagabonds from the pounding beams. The mother, they called Noi, prepared a restorative lunch of durik heart, frothy milk, and mouth-wateringly bitter figs. Slowly my constitution returned as I ate to the point of perceiving sound waves as words again. 

"Yovik, We should ask the lead wagon to lessen our pace to Bastion... our young chalky friend here has found his spirits back!" She smiled at me warmly as I stopped scarfing the fucking resplendent fatherland meal. 

"Oh, i'm sorry up until now, our scaly saviors had taken my words" I understood meager bits about the everyday gods of the natives but not sufficiently to hold deep conversation. " You are the kindest set of forien--outsiders....people not from buriti, ive ever encountered. My name is Jax" The fumbling of my words made them slightly uncomfortable as my husky voice still carried nobile derivity. 

The father seemed to be more pleased maybe due to its call to his homeland or inate structure that albinos struggle for among the dunes... "Are you from the upper BaskLands aye boy? Ya talk real proper for a some sand skimmer..." 

"you caught me honestly earlier...I deserted my post--But of the royal guard, not the soldiers. I hope you can forgive-" The fellow punched his hand out so quickly I thought he had drawn a blade from his waistline.

"Oi whatta good decision...Ive heard the Vascan royals are VILE sons of bitches!" His wife pierced him an aggravated glare though their children were already well into their 20's. 

"You should watch your mouth Yovik....the caravans are writhe with hungry purses waiting to talk about your sedition at the next stop." She closed a flap of the shabby wagon behind her as I began dining once more.

"Ma, dad is right tho, all we ever hear--even on the borders is about those stupid luneys with no love of the sand they walk on" the daughter gestured with her hand in a swirling motion at her temple comically. 

I slurped durik milk wanting to just melt into the soft furr cushion I found myself on. The native adopted son eyed me with a look I keenly recognized from getting it so often....contempt and hate. "Y'know me and Pa saw some NewsSlab on our hunting trip earlier....said all the Vascans were dead but one lone shitty royal" 

Noi gave a disdainful look at her son before speaking softly. "I don't want you picking up any more bad habits okay...I worry enough about our trips to Bastion," She turned to me now squinting her eyes while smiling. The crackling sands and laughter of other wagon groups permeated the ambiance.

 "Could I ask you one favor for saving you? ...when we get to Bastion can you help Beo and my husband deliver our goods, I feel the climate there is unsafe for women like us since the Rebels took over." 

I nearly spit thick cold milk from my nose but just painfully swallowed a hard lump into my stomach. "REBELS?" I swallowed the errant liquids trying to escape into my airways. "I mean forgive interjection, but I've heard the king's forces and Aygus' rebels have reconciled--" Shit my noble vernacular kept slipping. "There was some sort of peace talk...is all im sayin'" 

The son now just chortled loudly as he took a deep drink from a personal chrome flask. I felt my eyes practically bounce from their sockets as I heard him gulp down the sweet SWEET alcoholic beverage with relief...FUCK--I would crucify this entire lineage for that drink if I had to. 

The fragrance of the figgy beer jutted from his insolence as his comments took on knife-like gravity. " Whatever you heard is bullshit...If even one Vascan Durik-fucke...lover is still breathing then no Buriti, Dorig, or especially Svet is really safe." I let the discussion become lighter, attempting to zone out to not draw any more attention.

Is that really the country's perception of us royals...Treacherous and unable to pardon anyone--It appears the people may retain as much grievance as I held for them...How serendipitous, I am sat here, the king hearing their pleas for equality and dread of the Vascan supremacy prolonging.

As I absorbed chilling tales of highway battles between rival clans, the daughter Navah turned to me desiring to have some sort of side conversation away from her brood. They talked noisily with other merchants and their wagon families as the sand began to kick up in the wind. 

"You must have been pretty high ranked to have such fancy clothes...Why did you leave the service anyway?" Her gray tight eyes were sparkling adorably with curiosity she must have been suppressing this whole time. "Okay, you don't have to be shy fella...My parents are kind of old nomads so they are very boring to talk to..." She angled her head quickly to her adopted brother before covering her sass in a fake yawn. "Keo is just as grumpy as King Vasca!" Her giggle was contagious and vibrant, I couldn't help myself but let out a smile. 

"If you get me some fig beer I'll literally tell you anything you want to know about me right now..." If my father could attend me nearly groveling royal secrets for cheap country alcohol--He'd probably have me hung by my testicles for sacrilege. 

"That sounds like a good idea, " Her eyes flared with a level of dangerous mischief. "You ever ride a durik--Nevermind I don't care, stay here for a minute alright?" She popped up from the cushion with the pace of a comet. Her mother and father seemed to not care about her making chums with me as they began their commitments milking their head bull durik away from us. 

She made her way to her shifty brother Keo before she clutched her hands in pleading motions--It reminded me of my sweet sister Kash and I at the palace--years spent bickering yet only love found in its wake...I forced the thought out of my head before any sorrow took root.

Navah had procured the large chrome flask from Beo with saint-like elegance. The cantankerous beyond his years Buritian made his way lamenting and side-eying me as he went out of view to another campground full of resting peddlers. 

"Hey Jax! Looks like we have some time to talk, i guess Beo didn't wanna hear your battle stories" She shrugged before crisply hurling the flask to my lap. I felt my eyes quivering as I feigned I didn't need this drink more than I needed my throne. " Yeah, I don't criticize his choice...I'm not that interesting." 

Taking extensive sips of the bitter beer under that shady green canvas was like my own private sand-side chateau had to come to build up this sector, the nomads merit someplace durable to find solace in. 

Navah propped herself a little smidgen too close for my own comfort before playing with her hair excitedly. " Beo thinks you're some sand skimmer, but you look too soft-faced and moisturized to be any road killer...spill it, soft hands!" She grabbed the drink briskly from my sweaty palms before downing a sizable portion playfully. 

She leaned back next to me while studying the scar on my eye, her form was wriggling with anticipation of some retelling, I wish not to give her. Her short curly light brown hair was tucked into a brown sand-hood, yet she still exuded appealing feminity.

"Do you believe in....magic, ancient water goddesses, and deep-dwelling demi-human monsters?" the moment clung heavy before she looked around like she saw a ghost in the wind. I felt apprehension spike in my heart as the sounds of hyenas played at the edge of my hearing range. 

".....Are you stupid?" She said before breaking into a laugh and placing a hand on her head. "You sound like the old shamans stuck in the sand! You're so full of shit!"

"No I'm not!" I felt the strong fire of my blood and fig beer swilling within me. "I am the King of Buriti and I know what I saw for umistakable truth." The bass and normal familial Gravel came back to my voice as she seemed to almost flinch at my words.

"Now I will allow you to hear what I just went through as my only confidant in the matter" I took the flask from her gently but with intent, She just nodded her head as she held her breath. Ambient sand storms ebbed on the edge of our conversation. I pray she believes my story

end