The grey day passed like a bad dream. That evening, they camped at a tiny islet of grassy turf at the edge of the Dead Region. There were meadows and trees visible in the distance, so the next day’s journey looked promising. But the night before it? Not so much…

They were out of firewood, so their supper was dry wayfarer rations and cold water, their only protection from cold were their cloaks. The chargas had to make do with wayfarer rations as well for there was no game to hunt and the local yellowish grass was not to their taste, the very grass Kangassk had kneeled to stroke several hours before.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Kan asked the chargas. “Sure, it’s not as green as you’d like but you can’t be so picky when…”

“Huh-huh, good luck making them eat moongrass, kid!” Sereg sniffed at him. It was the first time the ancient mage had noticed the Kuldaganian that day.

“What’s wrong with moongrass?” Kan asked, being as sincerely naive as he was curious.

“Moongrass is deadly,” explained Vlada, “it’s a kind of grass you need if you want to poison your arrows.”

“I had no idea…” Kan sighed and fell silent.

He kept himself busy with nibbling at the dry ration bar for a while and let his thoughts free to go whichever way they liked. They could go exploring all kind of dreams and fantasies but no, they chose to dwell on the past and make Kan’s mood spiral down into the greyest gloom as they did that.

“His bride gave him that stone,” Vlada had said yesterday, “he had no idea what it was…”

Kangassk nearly choked on his food. His loud, raspy cough that followed, was so cruel it made Vlada worry for his well being. The ancient worldholder sat beside the puny mortal and carefully patted him on the back.

“Vlada…” Kan uttered between coughs. “You said… cough… yesterd… cough… something about my bride and that… ss.. stone…”

“And?”

“So that… cough… little… cough… brat… is my future bride? ‘D… destinies cross’… You meant – this way?”

“True,” Vlada confirmed all his suspicions with one word and one nod. “Believe me, you disappointed her as well.”

“Why’s that?” Kan asked, so annoyed and surprised all of a sudden that he forgot about the cough.

“Zanna’s grandmother promised her a great mage and warrior for a husband when she read her fortune. Later, Zanna’s imagination might have added some extra virtues to the picture. You didn’t stand even close.”

“I see,” said Kan gravely and spread his hands in a defeated gesture. “Not a mage, not a warrior, just a usual guy… Yeah, I get it now…”

Kangassk heard the second worldholder snort behind his back in an attempt to stifle a burst of laughter.

“Hey, cheer up! She gave you the stone, after all,” Vlada patted his back again. “She’s giving you a chance…”

“Hmph! Like I need a snotty brat for a bride!” with that being said – in the most spiteful and offended manner – Kangassk turned his face away.

The pocket dragon went for his evening walk to stretch his paws and wings a bit. He tried his luck at hunting for a while but the only game for him there were gnats – nasty critters, hard to catch, no fun to eat – so he switched to burning grass instead. The tiny dragonlighter must have felt mighty and powerful now, finally having something to defeat. The poisonous moongrass burned and shrivelled, blue smoke curled and danced around him as he spat his tiny bursts of fire back and forth.

“That’s the lovely grass for you,” Kangassk said to himself, all the gloomy thoughts and dark regrets summed up in one phrase. “And I even kneeled to stroke it, like a fool…”

He counted that day among the bad ones, made a wish so the next day would be better, rolled himself up into his cloak, leaned against his charga’s furry shoulder for a pillow, and went to sleep.

Chapter 5. Red eyes effect

The last Region they had to cross on their way to the North was Shamarkash. It took them two days to reach a proper road leading there, the very road Vlada and Kan had followed since Border and then left to enter the Burnt Region. It made a long detour to keep the travellers safe from the worst anomalies of No Man’s Land; getting back to it was good news, at least Kangassk thought so.

That day they were finally not alone on their journey, the only downside of that fact being that the people they met had been terrified of them at first. To the five young traders armed with rusty swords and handmade crossbows, three strangers and two chargas looked like a mighty bandit army. The oldest of the traders was the same age as Kangassk, the other four were just kids. As to their goods, there wasn’t much in the cart pulled by a sad scrawny donkey.

“…It’s all honey, honey,” the elder trader kept babbling non-stop, still nervous after the initial shock. “It’s our first time on the road. Our land is famous for its honey, you know, yes, it is. So we decided to sell some. Who else would if not us? We’re the only youngsters in the village full of old people…” He fell silent for a few moments, then gasped as the realization struck him, “Oh, where are my manners! My name’s Astrakh. These are my friends Yles, Will, and Ergen, and this is my little sister Klarissa.”