Ardalia: The Breath of Aoles

Chapter Three - AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE

The heat woke Pelmen up, unless it was the jolting of the cart, or the exhortations of the nidepoux driver up front. He propped himself up on his elbow, laboriously, careful not to start one of the camlorns rolling with his legs or bump his head on the underside of the table. Grimacing, he set about massaging his neck. He was alive—that was the essential thing.

The burn in his side reminded him that the nightmare of the previous night had been very real, and he almost let a groan escape. He must not think about that hateful, swollen face—not at the moment, at any rate, unless he wanted to stay underground, like a ptat, for the rest of his life.

Intermittent rays of light filtered into his hiding place. Judging by his aching joints, he must have slept for several hours at least, possibly even half a day. His stomach was crying out with hunger and thirst. Pelmen remained motionless for a few more moments, his nostrils quivering and his ears pricked. The crystalline voice of a young woman could be heard and was followed by that of the driver—her father, or perhaps her husband.

Although the exact meaning of the words was unintelligible, Pelmen was certain that he was not the subject of the discussion. Was this how it felt to be a fugitive, he wondered, lifting up the tablecloth slightly to risk a peek. He could not see anything except an accumulation of pots lined with chanvreline drapes. That did not tell him very much. Any corner of the cart might hide a hevelen who he would only see at closer range.

Pelmen stretched his limbs and tried to gather what remained of his courage.

His torso was already outside when he changed his mind and turned round. The camlorns. They're there, within reach. It would be pure and simple theft, scarcely worthy of the hunter he had so desperately wanted to be before the world around him had gone crazy. He was dying of hunger and thirst, so, without any further hesitation, he grabbed a ripe fruit of respectable size, put it under his arm and crawled away.

He had to go around stools, step over earthenware pots and climb over crates. The rear of the cart was bathed in a blinding light. Pelmen jumped down on to the stony road, collected himself and reached the ditch without further delay.

The driver of the vehicle to the rear, whose features he could not make out because of the glare, had seen him. However, he must have thought Pelmen inconsequential, for he contented himself with shaking his head to show his disapproval.

Pelmen chose an out-of-the-way spot to sit down. The stone was warm under his thighs. Astar dominated the sky with his unavoidable mass. The surrounding décor was that of a granite corridor with ochre walls.

Pelmen picked up a stone with a pointed end, wedged his camlorn between his knees and used it to cut through the pink-streaked blue rind. He sucked up the moisture at the heart of the fruit eagerly and feasted upon the pulp. Then it was the skin's turn, tougher but more nourishing, which he broke into pieces and chewed, while watching the convoy of hevelens and animals marching against the wind, their shoulders hunched.

Aoles always blows westwards, so they're heading eastwards, toward Alveg, Pelmen deduced. He, too, felt like he had been marching against the wind since the beginning. His attempt to escape the destiny mapped out for him by his father had very nearly proved fatal. I won't be going back with my tail between my legs any time soon. Anyway, it's too late to turn back.

Families whose father or eldest son was pulling a cart made up most of the convoy. There were also carts harnessed to nidepoux, and a few herdsmen, small by comparison with their seven-foot tall linguilis. Occasionally, one of the quadrupeds with immaculate fleeces and long prehensile tails strayed from the herd. A herdsman quickly recaptured it, whirling his crook to force the animal back into line.