The Tomb of the Tagosa Kings

Part Two

Harry settled himself in atop a rock at the crest of the ridge, rifle resting across his lap as he stared out at the heat-drenched landscape around.  The old dried out riverbed they were camped upon cut through a wrinkle of hills situated in the midst of wide plains.  Westward the horizon was thick with more hills and the odd mountains peak, hazy in the bright light, while north, south and east the plains ran on into the distance.  Stone grass and other hardy scrub dotted the baked red earth of the region, broken up with mottled patches of yellow or grey rock. The plains were not as flat as they appeared, but held many dips and scraps of dead ground, and it was within these that the Nacatori were keeping.  Only the presence of dust, kicked up by hooves and feet, gave away their existence for the most part.

The patrol that had early been driven off had pulled back, well beyond range of even a rifle, and waited amongst a jumbled cluster of boulders for the arrival of the rest of their companions.

The region was hot and dry, yet it had not always been that way, as the presence of the dried out river spoke of.  The terrain deteriorated the further west one travelled, becoming nigh uninhabitable deserts in parts beyond the western hills, but it was from those harsh lands that the Nacatori came, striking through the hills to the lands were the Tagosa tribes of the Badema, Yamasa, Tamago and others dwelt, and even beyond, to the lands were once the Hakset had ruled before the Maedari had driven them out.

This far west the Maedari seldom came but for patrols and a string of border forts, though the situation the Queen’s Own found themselves in was somewhat unusual.  The forts and patrols did not extend as far north as the part of the country they were in, and it was only to protect the professor and his men that they had come this way.  Professor Halir, a man Harry had known for more than a decade, had become convinced that an ancient Tagosa king had been buried in the locale, and so an expedition had been organised, with the Queen’s Own dispatched to protect him.  For a week, beneath the blazing sun and in the suffocating heat, they had suffered as the workers, men from Maedar and the Tagosa tribes, hobgoblins of the Aracan nations and even hill clan goblins, had worked to clear the rubble that blocked the way into the cave.

The great difficulty of operating in that part of the country was the lack of water.  There were no streams and the closest waterholes were half a day's travel away.  They had been provided with great casks of water, brought forward by wagons, the type carried aboard ships, when they had first arrived at the dig site.  The water had to be rationed to last, which had meant that there were no mounts and the dogs that always accompanied the Maedari had had to be left behind.  Their absence for men who had always been around canine companions was almost unsettling.

Harry looked upwards, searching the pale, cloudless sky.  After a moment he smiled to himself, having spotted what he was after.  High overhead a bird drifted, soaring on the hot air that rose from the plains.  It was little more than a black dot, its type unidentifiable at the height it flew at.

Hazel eyes locked onto the distant bird, Harry staring hard at it even as his thoughts probed forward.  There was, as always, a moment of disorientation as their minds met and touched and then there was dizziness sweeping through him as the ground dropped suddenly away beneath him.  Mind riding with that of the raptor above, all was open beneath his keen sight.

It took but a moment to gently nudge the mind of the fierce raptor, to guide its sight to where Harry wished it to look.  The raptor banked and began to spiral downwards, sharp eyes focused on the band of Nacatori who trailed across the earth far below.  There were a lot of them.  Suddenly Harry broke his mind clear from that of the raptor, his weathered, scared face marked with concern.