A Storm in the Making

Chapter 30--Off to See The Wizards

I saw Hermitage Castle for the first time, long before we got to it.  It sat on a grassy rise like the topper for a prehistoric wedding cake.  While I studied the castle in the distance,  the hot morning sun overhead made me wonder how many Dardarians died of skin cancer every year from the double whammy of UV rays from twin suns burning their skin to a crisp.  I glanced down at my hand to see if it was sun-burned yet, and felt myself lifted off the wagon seat and slammed back down again. The jolt caused my hand to slam into the bottom of chin, jarring my teeth.  I growled in frustration under my breath. 

 I had never ridden in a wagon before, and would gladly have forgone the pleasure this time.  For a modern American such as myself, used to transportation with leaf springs and shock absorbers, it was an education in the hardships our pioneer ancestors had endured crossing America in covered wagons.  No wonder they had dental problems.

 The wagon I was riding in had never heard of the term ‘covered wagon’.  No, we had to sit here bouncing along under that hot lavender-sky without so much as a hat to protect us.   I looked back at Uncle, Luke, and Andrew.  They looked as miserable as I.  They were sitting in the back of the wagon on top of an enormous pile of hay, talking quietly.  I could see the top of Uncle’s head, and his thinning hair.  The whole top of his head was as red as a boiled shrimp.  Poor Uncle with his pale, freckled skin.  I don’t know why he didn’t pull the hood of his cloak up like Luke and Andrew had done.  Maybe, like me, it was just too confining.  I couldn’t stand wearing mine up.

 As we jarred along the steep wagon track, I kept wishing I could ride with William Helm.  He rode beside the wagon in gloomy silence.  He looked so free up there, perched atop a tall camel, like he was born to ride one.  Perhaps he had been.  I had no way to know.  There was just enough of a breeze to flare his black cloak out behind him like some Arab chieftain. His black hood had blown back, and his hair beneath was a tousled mess.  He had one leg wrapped around the saddle horn, deceptively relaxed.  He actually rode that way to have both hands free for fighting, should the need arise, Dr. Spinner told me when I had made a disparaging remark about him relaxing on the job.  

As I watched him for a few minutes, I had to admit, a camel was a great choice for the desert-like terrain of Witches Isle and most of the rest of Dardara, too, from what I gathered.  Certainly he wasn’t being jarred around like we were.  Though, the swaying of the camel could probably be a little hard on the equilibrium. 

The camel he rode was no ordinary, garden variety camel from back on earth.  This creature held the title of a giant camel’s, other-worldly, ugly cousin, thanks to the effects of the crystals on these beasts.  I didn’t know if they’d been transported here from earth, or some other planet.  Either way, this camel had very little in common with its dromedary cousin on earth.  For one thing, it had a shaggy coat of long, coarse, unkempt, gray hair that hung down in raggedy dreadlocks. They looked as nasty as the beast smelled.  The wind shifted and I could not only smell the camel, ugh!   The smell of the gatzus pulling the wagon, assaulted my nose with their peculiar stench, as well. 

I never thought much about animals coming through the gateways, like people, until today when I had to deal with these two smelly breeds.  Dr. Spinner, sitting to my right on the wagon seat, happily explained to me that gatzus came originally from the planet of Azul—where Princess Ranaloxa’s people, the Analozi, were from.   Gatzus were a breed of hornless cattle about the size of a donkey.  They were cultivated similarly to other bovine species.  There any resemblance ended.  These poor creatures could survive in the harsh desert conditions of Dardara, and actually thrive.  Their diet of tough needle grass is what gave the gatzus their particular odor.  I wondered idly if the camel had the same excuse.