Syman finally collapsed to a sitting position and stared off at the river below. “A lot of good the map does us,” he declared solemnly. “The only real road in Omunga goes clear around the country by hugging the coast. I do not see a way to get to Alamar without traversing it.”
“Why can’t we just cut across the country?” asked Antello. “We have horses and it is a lot shorter than following the road. Then we might be able to secure a boat for the rest of the trip.”
“The road follows the coast because the Sakova is uninhabitable,” answered Syman. “I have heard that there are dangerous animals and impassible jungles in the Sakova.”
“Worse than that,” Lyra stated. “Strange peoples live inland. Some call them spirits, spirits who are far more dangerous than death itself. They torture anyone who enters their forbidden area and then eat them alive.”
“There are pits beneath the ground which swallow men without warning,” Syman added. “Nobody goes to the Sakova and returns alive.”
“Then it is perfect for us,” grinned Antello. “We do not wish to return. Besides, if everyone is afraid to go there, the Imperial Guard and the invaders will not follow us. They would not think of looking for us where they know we would not go.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” asked Lyra. “There are so many dangers taking that route that we would never make it.”
“Ah, but I have been listening,” Antello smiled. “It sounds like a very dangerous trip, but look at the alternative. On one hand we have stories of ghosts and cannibals and man-eating animals. On the other we have Imperial Guards and invaders, not stories of them, but flesh and blood killers. I do not see any chance of getting past all of them on the coast road, even if we try to find trails that people have forgotten about.”
“I think Antello may be right,” Syman frowned. “I sure do not like going anywhere near the Sakova, but we will not make it to Alamar along the coast. We thought all along that we could run to the Imperial Guard for help, but now we find them hunting us as well. When you look at it that way, there is really no choice for us to make. We can go through the Sakova and fight for our lives or we can stick with the coastal route and forfeit any chance we have of living.”
Lyra looked from Syman to Antello and back again. She expected this type of bravado from Antello and was prepared to dismiss it outright, but Syman did not possess Antello’s rosy perception. Yet Syman was agreeing with Antello, which meant they really had no chance at all on the coast road.
“All right,” agreed Lyra reluctantly. “I really do not look forward to being eaten whether it be by animal or cannibal, but I understand that it is the only chance we have. At least we won’t have to worry about the invaders or Imperial Guards. Let’s get some rest and leave as soon as it is dark.”
Syman and Antello drifted off quickly, but Lyra lay awake remembering the stories of the Sakova she had heard since her early childhood. Alfred used to delight in telling her the latest tales whenever he heard one, but now she wondered if the stories were really true. She hoped tales of horror were fabrications because she would not survive the trip if half of them reflected reality. She had heard other accounts from reliable sources about people going to the Sakova and never returning. The people simply vanished.
Lyra remembered the day a student asked Master Malafar about the Sakova and why the Katana did not try to build a road across it so the country would be better united. Her father tried to explain that the coast road was adequate and that sea travel was quicker in any event. The student pressed the question and Rhodella intervened. She told the student that the government did try periodically to conquer the Sakova, but their expeditions never returned and the Katana soon lost interest until a new Katana was chosen and then the lesson repeated itself. Master Malafar added that if the student had a choice between swimming out to sea or entering the Sakova, he would be wise to start swimming.
Many other tales came to mind as Lyra stared up at the bottom of the bridge and tried to go to sleep. Remembering her parents had not helped any and Lyra found herself toying with her mother’s ring that she now carried on a chain around her neck. She thought about how much she missed them and her mind flooded with questions she wanted to ask them. Tears filled her eyes and she squeezed them shut. Her mind temporarily distracted from the horrors of the Sakova, Lyra cried herself to sleep.
It was dark out when Syman shook Lyra awake and she sat up still clutching her mother’s ring. Antello was packing the horses and Lyra rose and ran down to the river to wash away the dried tears that stained her face. When she got back, her gear was already loaded on her horse and Syman and Antello were waiting. Antello crept out from under the bridge to check the road and returned. No one spoke as they mounted and rode eastward along the riverbank.
An hour later they crossed one of the main trails that Antello had spoken about. Antello slowed as they approached it and checked both ways before signaling to cross. They continued eastward, weaving in and out of the trees as there was no trail to follow. A couple of hours later they came to the end of the forest. Antello halted and Syman and Lyra rode up beside him. The trio sat staring eastward at an endless expanse of nothing. The stars were visible right down to the horizon.
“Perhaps we should camp here until dawn,” Syman suggested.
Lyra thought he was probably thinking about the bottomless pits in the ground that might await them on the journey across the prairie. At night they would not be able to see where the horses were stepping.
“We are too close to Gatong,” Antello declared. “We must cross as much of this prairie as we can before dawn. Anyone who looks out across this in the daylight will be able to see for leagues and we would be visible.”
“You are right,” Syman agreed. “I just don’t like riding when I cannot see where I am going.”
“Never fear,” Antello grinned. “I am leading and if I disappear down a hole, you have my permission to stop for the night.”
“Very funny,” Syman shot back, “but it wouldn’t be the first time I stopped you from doing something foolish. Well, get moving. Get out there and find that hole so I can get some sleep.”
Lyra smiled at their banter and realized that only true friends could be so wicked with each other. Lyra gazed at the stars as Antello started them moving once more. The sky seemed so large without buildings or trees blocking the view. The expanse of the night sky made her feel small and insignificant. Oddly, the thought had a pacifying effect on her, as if her troubles were really nothing big at all. Lyra looked north and south and could see the horizons in all direction but west, from which they had come.
Visibility at ground level was poor as the moon had not risen yet, but Lyra knew they were traveling through a field of wild watula. The scent was powerful and pleasant. Lyra struggled to free her mind of the Academy, the invaders, and where they were going. She gave herself over to the night sky and the watula scent and found it calming. After a while, she detected the sound of crickets chirping and it grew steadily louder as they proceeded eastward. The moon made its appearance, peeking over the horizon at first, and then growing into a huge ball of soft light that bathed the watula stalks in a golden glow. After a while, the sound of the crickets grew loud and the ground turned soft. The tall stalks of watula gave way to a short stubby grass with little thickets of bush scattered about. She heard Antello shout a curse as his horse stumbled into a hole. It was the first sound any of them had made since leaving the forest.
“I think we are heading into a swamp,” Antello called.
“If you want to deviate from our course,” offered Syman, “I would suggest more southward. The other coast comes in closer to the south according to the map.”