This was the end.
Cam breathed heavily, his face lost to fear.
‘Micah,’ Shilah said, gripping harder. Her words were slurred from the poison, but her eyes were focused and sharp. ‘You’re going to be okay.’
I pointed down to the valley with a shaking hand.
Shilah nodded with understanding and went back to work extracting the poison. She reached her limit after three more pulls, her lips flooding with colour and swelling. Scooping a hand against the ground, she sprinkled a layer of sand over her tongue and then angled my arm up.
‘Kpp it elvted.’ She spat. ‘Make th bld wrk to rech the wnnd.’
‘What can I do?’ Cam asked, checking the Coldmaker bag for more lizards before tossing it over his shoulder. ‘How can I help? Tell me what to do!’
‘Kpp up,’ she said, wrenching my arm and dragging me forwards.
We sprinted all the way to the middle of the three humps of the valley, my legs shaking. The pain in my arm was so furious that it almost felt like pleasure, which I knew wasn’t a good sign. My vision was starting to swim and everything had taken on a beige hue – something that had never happened with any other Sobek bite. Hope was quickly draining with each step.
Down at the bottom of the steep valley was a stout shack huddling in shadow. Attached to the side was a small wooden stable, a beige snout poking out, dipping into a water trough.
Is that a hound? I thought, trying to pick out any red eyes through the haze. Did the Vicaress beat us here?
‘You see that?’ Shilah asked, nodding down, clarity in her voice returning. ‘I think it’s a camel.’
‘It’s alive,’ Cam said. ‘Which means someone must be home.’
Shilah grabbed my wrist and drew out three more pulls of poison and blood, but I couldn’t feel her lips this time.
‘Yrr gong to be okay,’ she said, wiping her mouth.
My legs began to buckle. I turned to Cam, pointing to the Coldmaker, thinking maybe Ice could help. I was taken aback by the sight of my arm, which was riddled with sweat. Like the boiling bubbles that ran along the top of the Singe.
Shilah pinched the skin on the back of my neck, jolting me out of the fog. ‘Stop being dramatic. You’re going to be okay. I’m not going to Langria without you. And I’m going to Langria.’
She was stronger than I thought, or maybe I was stronger, because we made it to the bottom of the valley without me falling over and passing out, the land growing more solid the deeper we traversed. I knew I needed to stay awake, to keep from death’s alleyway, or I’d be gone forever.
‘No green mark over the door,’ Cam said as we stepped in front of the shack. ‘You think this is the right shack?’
‘Are you kidding me?’ Shilah asked, pounding the door with the palm of her hand. ‘You see any other shacks around?’
I wasn’t able to peel my eyes away from the stable. The snout poked out further, revealing a beast with kind eyes, accentuated with long, thick eyelashes and knotted tufts of fur awning its forehead. The creature reminded me of a camel, but it was much smaller, the tufts at its neck lumpier. It’s head only reached my chin, and it stuck out a pink tongue playfully, wiggling it in my direction.
I stuck mine out as well, but I couldn’t get it to wiggle.
Shilah pounded the door again.
‘You ever see one of those before?’ I asked my friends, smiling at the beast. I much preferred this creature to the hounds that were probably still on our trail. ‘I think it wants to be friends.’
No one answered me.
The words were only in my head.
‘The secret is tears,’ I whispered silently to the camel. ‘Isn’t that funny?’
‘That’s not the only secret,’ the camel responded, ruffling its furry neck. ‘I know your name.’
I laughed, wondering why only I could hear the little camel.
‘He doesn’t look so good,’ Cam said, snapping his fingers in my face. ‘Micah, you still with us?’
Cam’s face was a beige smear.
Shilah kicked at the door now. ‘Hello! Please, we need your help!’
The door opened just a crack, enough for us to find a very sharp arrow pointing at Shilah’s forehead.
‘No,’ a gruff voice inside the shack said.
‘Yes,’ the camel whispered.
Down at our feet a heavy smoke curled out of the opening of the door. The black cloud was like an old scar. A shameful part of me wanted to drop to my stomach and start huffing, as it would certainly make the journey to my death more pleasant.
What’s the opposite of penance? I wondered to myself.
‘We’re here for the Coldmarch,’ Shilah said, unafraid and standing tall.
The arrow lowered to point at her mouth.
A pause from inside, the smoke continuing to escape. ‘No.’
‘No what?’ Shilah asked.
‘That’s not a real thing. I never heard of no blasted Coldmarch.’
‘Mama Jana sent us,’ Shilah said. ‘And my friend here has been bitten by a Sobek. We need your help.’
The arrow shook. ‘He’ll live. Tell him to suck it up. Least it’s not a sand-viper.’
Shilah grabbed the severed lizard tail out of her pocket and held it up. ‘It was a baby.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have been out in the sands if you didn’t want to get bit. Go back to your barracks and get medicine there, damned Jadans.’
Even through my fog of panic I found it interesting that he used the word ‘Jadans’ instead of slaves.
Cam nudged Shilah out of the way, stepping in front of the arrow and puffing up in the haughty way at which High Nobles tended to excel. I wanted to laugh, as the billowy green flutter-robes wasn’t helping to toughen his image.
‘Sir, I’m Camlish Tavor, first in line for my House, and I’m escorting these Jadans on the Coldmarch.’
‘No such thing as a Coldmarch,’ the voice growled. ‘Now take your spoiled, High Noble ass back to your daddy, Tavor.’
The miniature camel began grunting loudly in its stable, the overhanging tuft of fur on its forehead spilling into its eyes.
‘Hush, Picka!’ the man grunted. ‘Thisn’t none of your business.’
Picka, I thought with a grin as I wandered over to it, looking into its long face. What a fine name for a talking camel. Hello, Picka.
‘Hello. Thank you,’ the camel said with a smirk in its eyes. ‘Micah.’
‘My friends call me Spout,’ I said with a bow, wondering if the camel was pronouncing my name funnily on purpose, or if it just couldn’t make the sounds with its large, lolling tongue. ‘You can call me Spout. It reminds me of my father.’
Shilah caught me under the arms as I fell, keeping me upright. I glanced down and saw that my feet were now two large sweat bubbles.
‘Look, sir,’ Cam said, giving an arrogant bow. ‘I appreciate your discretionary behaviour, obviously a necessity for such a position as yours, but we know very well