The calliston was trotting through the gentle countryside at a crisp pace. It had taken Yona every ounce of persuasion she had to keep the calliston by the village for one more day, but she had no choice. Overnight one of the older women had fallen ill, despite food and water, and Golla had ordered them to wait. Now, according to a map Beak had made up, borrowing some thin leather from the ever-helpful people of the village of Markon Vale, they were heading to the Kerron Hills. If they had guessed right, and the calliston, from some distant memory, was trying to find his way home, then two more days after that and they would arrive at the old, long-abandoned place where once had been a calliston village. What happened then was anyone’s guess.
They had spoken long and hard about it the previous day as Yona had become increasingly worried she was somehow dragging them unwillingly across the continent of Bind. She had had to stop herself saying sorry countless times and had silently cursed Gorr for pointing it out. But, despite her worries, none had wanted to remain at the village or take any other path. It was Phoran that explained the reason to her as they had ridden the calliston around the village, heading south.
“It’s partly the three children,” he had said. “They have recovered faster than the rest of us and have been running around making sure everyone’s alright. They have bound everyone together. And you think everyone is looking for a village? Well, they have already found one. It might not have a place to build yet, but it exists, and is sitting on the back of your calliston.”
Her calliston. Golla had taken her aside.
“He is connecting to you and you to him, Yona. I don’t know how, and I know a lot of things, but he is. You be careful of that girl. I reckon that beast won’t let go of you now. You have got a responsibility to him.”
She knew the big landlady was right and she had no intention of letting him down. Or any of them.
“He is bouncing more than before!” Beva was sitting on the calliston’s neck between Yona’s legs.
“I think he’s in a rush, Beva.”
“Does he have a name?” asked the girl.
“I don’t know, Beva,” said Yona with a chuckle. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“I heard Beak talking, saying when the calliston was young he would have had parents and they could all talk. I bet he had a name.”
Yona sighed. Beva had big ears, she had noticed. In the last day, she had also become even more cuddly, to both her and Phoran, and last night she had woken up with a bad nightmare. With getting fed and feeling physically better, the girl was beginning to miss her mother much more, and the tragedy of her death in that cold, dark room was raising its head. “We could give him a name. Have you got one?” asked Yona.
“I don’t think I should name him.”
“Why not?”
“He is old,” said the girl, stroking the beasts neck with her hand. He rumbled in pleasure. “I am only little. He needs a proper name, not a silly name.”
Yona doubted the girl quite realised what an incredibly grown up thing that was to say.
“Alright. Then an old friend needs an old name, something proper.” Yona thought for a few minutes. Most people she knew could neither read nor write, and their use of words was simple and straightforward. But she had been taught to read when very young, and her adopted mother had even taught her some of the older Adelan words that she had learned as a child. “Eldola.”
“What?” asked Beva.
“Eldola. That is what I will name him. Eld is the older form of the word old and Ghola is a very, very old word for friend. Probably where the landlady’s name came from too. So, let’s join them together. Eldola; old friend.”
“I like that,” said Beva. “He is a friend, isn’t he?”
“Yes, a good friend.” They sat quietly, and Beva leant back and snuggled into Yona’s arms.
The four tall, strong, and dark-skinned warriors stood before them with bows pulled. Yona and her villagers, because that is now how they called themselves, had been walking next to Eldola the calliston. He had slowed down and seemed confused as if he didn’t know where he was going. They had lost the trail a while back and even Beak wasn’t sure of the way. Then the warriors had walked silently out from the trees before them and the calliston had stopped, frozen in his tracks. Now they stood staring at each other in silence. Yona stepped forward, and Phoran hissed a warning. He was a very tall man and yet these warriors were nearly a head taller still, and their bows had to be eight feet in length.
“Pharsil-Hin,” murmured Beak. “Nomads. They defend their own, but they are never bandits. She will be safe, Phoran.”
Yona took a nervous breath and walked to the tallest of the men and stood in front of his bow. “Please,” she said. “We are lost.” He studied her with his head on one side. They were all looking better since they had left Markon Vale, but they were still thin, and their clothes ragged.
“You are slaves,” he said simply.
“We were.”
“You escaped?”
“Yes. With the calliston several days ago.”
“You have weapons?”
“No. Just a couple of knives and a broken axe.”
The tall nomad lowered his bow. “I am Han-so-Terena. We will feed you and arm you.” The four nomads turned, walked down the trail, and then headed up into the hills. Beak walked up next to Yona.
“Do you always make friends so quickly?” he asked.
“She does,” said Phoran, chuckling. “Except with the fish. They swim away if they see her and she’s banned from the boats.”
Yona glared at him, then returned to Eldola and gently encouraged him to follow them up into the hills. The calliston seemed pleased to be walking with purpose again and padded alongside the young woman, emitting a low, soft rumble. Beva trotted up on the other side of his head.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“They are nomads,” explained Beak.
“I have never heard of them,” said Yona, frowning again. “I think they’re alright, though.”
“I am not frightened,” said the girl firmly.
“You aren’t?” Yona peeked around the large head of the calliston at the diminutive Beva.
“I saw how Eldola attacked those deer a few days ago. Now he has a name he is our family. I know he will protect me.” The small girl leant her head on the huge face of the calliston as they walked, and he rumbled softly. Yona shook her head. Beva may be suffering terrible nights at the moment, plagued by nightmares, but when the sun shone, she was a little beacon of hope for them all.
The Pharsil-Hin had been in the hills for two months, they said, and their village was well organised. They had built large, round, hide-covered homes, and small pens where goats were being kept for milking, while others were grazing free around the hillside. Yona thought there must be about sixty nomads here; a small group of families with some elders and even a couple of babes-in-arms. Eldola took a long drink from the stream that ran through the middle of the temporary village, then settled down, eyeing a pen of goats with interest.
“He is hungry,” said Han-so-Terena. “We shall roast him a goat.”
“He hasn’t eaten much,” said Yona. “We were fed by some people at a village north of here, but he didn’t eat.”
“They eat like dragons,” explained the warrior. “We will give him plenty.”
“You are so kind. I don’t understand why,” said Yona, leaving the calliston to dream about his dinner. “You don’t know who we are.”
“You are slaves. Many of our kin have been captured and are enslaved in Wessen in the mines. One day we will free them. For now, we will feed you, for you are their kindred. Where are you heading?”
“The Kelaine hills, we think.” Yona smiled a little in embarrassment. “It’s becoming a complicated story, but we are more following Eldola than he following us.”
“Eldola? I am pleased he has a name. I have heard of dummerholes, but I did not know any existed still. It is good that he has a name and such a good one. We will tell the Draig yr Anialr of him, and tell them he has a name. Come, I will introduce you to my mate, and you can tell us your complicated story, and we will tell you some of ours.”
The Pharsil-Hin opened all their homes to Yona’s people, and each stayed in one of the hide houses under a blanket that night. Beva slept cuddled tightly next to Yona, and for the first time had a trouble-free night. In the morning, they were given a porridge of cereal and fermented goats milk, and Han-so-Terena helped Beak improve his map.
“There is no road through here,” he told them. “To our east are the Eastern Plains. When you reach the river Al-ne-Kelaine, you will cross one of the few roads. It is a trade road from An-Hellern, the seat of the Keffra-See, into Desson, and is the only trade route into the southern half of the Plains. The Eastern Plains is a troubled land and those that trade together also sometimes fight each other. The Pharsil-Hin are often attacked by the Keffra-See as we travel, and the Draig yr Anialr with their riders help to protect us. This has been true for hundreds of years.”
“Do you know this village of the callistons?” asked Beak. “I remember it from my travels many years ago, I believe. I found ruins in the Kelaine hills and I think that must be the place, though I didn’t know what it was.”
“It is,” confirmed the nomad. “We in the So tribe sometimes hunt in the hills and we know them well. I do not know how long it has been abandoned, but it is nothing more than a few broken walls now.”
“That is how I remember it too. Yona is certain that Eldola is heading there.”
“I believe she is right. As far as we know from our tribal memory, that was the only Calliston village in this part of Bind, most being much farther west. I see no other reason why your friend should be coming here.”
Yona looked up at the sun. “We should go soon,” she said. “We are all so very grateful for your kindness. We have been so cruelly treated, and yet in the last few days we have met two peoples who have put their daily lives aside for us.”
“As I told you yesterday, you are kin to our kin enslaved. We would celebrate your freedom. Now, we must also arm you, as much as we can. Where your friend is taking you is most beautiful, but you will need to hunt and there may be other dangers, as with anywhere on Dirt. The Keffra-See have no interest in the hills, but you should still be wary of them. None of you will ever be able to pull our great bows, but we have a few smaller bows and shafts that we can offer you.” The nomad stood and took them to the village centre where others of the So tribe were sorting out bows, some knives, and an impressive heap of thick but soft hides. Yona, who could not use a bow, went to help pack their few things and check on Beva and the other children who were playing with Eldola.
Phoran looked at the pile of hides. “This is too much, Han-so-Terena,” he exclaimed.
“The winds and cold at night are as much of an enemy as any man, Phoran,” explained the nomad. “The hides are your weapon against that foe. Now, we would see which of you can use a bow, make sure you are armed, and we will give you a little training. We are the best archers on Dirt.” It was not a boast but a simple statement of fact, as with all their conversation. Phoran did not doubt for a moment it was true.
Five of the former slaves stepped forward and were given bows, and the nomads helped them with their skills. All could shoot and two of them with some expertise.
“You are not a bowman?” Han-so-Terena asked Beak. “That surprises me.”
“Yes, I can use a bow. If we need, I will use one.”
“Please, select one and we shall see how well you shoot. You look stronger than the others.” Beak had lost much weight during his incarceration and, unknown to the others, his treatment when first captured had been particularly cruel, but the wiry muscles on his small frame had somehow kept their strength.
“It’s alright; I know how to fire a bow.”
“Please, this is important,” insisted the nomad.
“I only use one when I really have to,” the small man protested angrily, turning away. The tall nomad grabbed him by an arm, stopping him
“I suspect you have some skill, but if others do not know how skilled you are, then how are they to know how to fight? Each warrior must understand the skills of the others; this is the only true way to win a battle.”
“You do not understand,” growled Beak.
“I only understand your need now, friend. I have no need to understand the trials of your past.”
Beak spun around, pulling his arm free, and snatched up a bow. Without taking his eyes from the nomad he notched two arrows at once and sent them dead centre into the farthest target. The Nomad raised an eyebrow and bowed a little.
“You are truly an exceptional archer. You should not hide it.” He looked at the simple bow that Beak had used, and then pulled a beautiful longbow from his back. It was not one of their great bows, but it was powerful, and wonderfully made. “Here, this is more suited for you I think, warrior.” He handed the bow over to the speechless man and walked to the others to offer a little more instruction. Beak stared at the wondrous weapon in his hands.
“What the hell was that about, Beak?” hissed Phoran. Beak shook his head slightly. “Tell me, or tell Yona. I can see you are fond of her.”
Beak looked up at the tall man. One of the tribal women had applied an ointment to Phoran’s scarred back the previous night and he was standing straighter and stronger today. “Your Yona is like my sister of many years ago. Nothing more.”
“And the reluctance to fire a bow?”
“My father was a cruel man who beat my mother. I killed him with his own bow when I was fifteen to save her life, but she never forgave me. After I lost my own family, I spent most of my life as a mercenary, killing for coin until I was sick of the death. I use a bow because I am good with one, but I hate them too.” He looked at the beautiful bow again, then put it over his shoulder. “Am I too old to change, Phoran?”
“You have decided to stay at the calliston village when we get there, haven’t you,” said Phoran to Yona as they left the nomad village on the back of the calliston.
“I shouldn’t have decided that on my own, and we will ask the others when we get there. I am sorry, my love.”
“No, don’t be. Your large friend needs a home and I do not think the cliffs and sea of our home would suit him well. You need a home too.”
“We have our village. Isn’t that our home?” Yona was feeling guilty, but for some reason, the place of her birth seemed even farther away now, even though they were heading south towards it.
“It is, but I think that has changed.” Phoran looked back along the hide where their friends, their new villagers, were sitting, now well rested, though still weak. The calliston was wide with a long, long back, but there was not enough room for them all and they were huddled together. “Home is where your people are. These are your people now.”
“And you?”
“I have always been your people!” The tall man grinned.
Yona loved him so much that sometimes it hurt. They had always known each other of course, as their fishing village was small, and they had been in their teens when they first walked along the cliffs, bathing in the warm wind from the Missing Sea, and had decided to try kissing. They had been in love ever since.
“I do not know about Beak, though. I am not sure he can settle.”
“I believe he wants to,” said Phoran. “But I think he may be too set in his ways. Is he really so old? His face looks old, but watching him with a bow, I just cannot believe it.”
“I spoke to Golla when we left Markon Vale. She says he really is that old. Called him a long-lived, though I am not sure exactly what that means. I think he will stay a while, and we desperately need him. He is the strongest of us.”
“No, he isn’t,” said Phoran with a smile. Yona braced herself for some more praise she was fairly certain she didn’t deserve. “That would be our big friend here!” Phoran patted Eldola on the neck and was rewarded with a grunt of annoyance. Yona roared with laughter and gave her man a very wet and thoroughly embarrassing kiss.
Although they were now much clearer about the route, Yona still felt they were in the hands of the large calliston as he carefully made his way down from the hills to the heathlands below and set off southeast, almost as if he had been part of the map discussions. The previous night he had eaten two roasted goats which had been flavoured with herbs and bulbs of garlic, and Beva had been left giggling as he rumbled and almost hummed as he ate. It was a small reminder that his kind was intelligent and cultured, and not merely another beast of the plain or the forest. Sometimes Yona wished he was not from such a background as it made his life seem so much harsher.
The land here was flatter than it had been since they crossed the Cor-En, and as it neared dusk Beak called out that he could see where the tributary of the Al-ne-Kelaine that they had been following for the past few hours met the main river. Almost at once Eldola slowed down, hesitant of another river crossing.
“We will stop here for the night then cross in the morning,” Yona called up to Beak, as she leapt down from the calliston and ran to his head to tell him to stop. As she patted her friend on the cheek to thank him, from behind her, she heard a shout, and she spun around to see eight horsemen charging towards them.
“Keffra!” shouted Beak. “Get you bows out,” he ordered the other five archers, and quickly swung the beautiful nomad bow off his shoulders. Standing straight on Eldola’s back, he nocked an arrow, holding five more in his right hand.
“Everyone off!” shouted Yona, looking around wildly. “Daintine, take the children behind those rocks!” The woman grabbed Beva and the other two young children and pulled them towards a small formation of rocks that rose out from the river bank, but Beva struggled from her grasp and ran back and grabbed Eldola’s head.
“Beva, go with her!” said Yona.
“No! He will protect me!” she shouted back. “I will protect him.”
Before Yona had a chance to argue further, Beak started loosing his arrows, telling the others to wait until the horsemen were closer. The Keffra spread out in a long line, drew evil, curved swords, and shouted in high-pitched wails as they bore down on their quarry.
“What do they want?” shouted Phoran, gripping a long staff that one of the nomads had given him.
“Slaves,” shouted Beak. “They want to take us as slaves.”
“How do you know?” shouted Yona as Beak ordered the others to start firing.
“Because I’ve fought them before,” he growled.
“Within seconds the horsemen were upon them, and Eldola backed away in fright, whimpering as the former slaves fought the experienced Keffra warriors. Beak and the others jumped down from the calliston’s back and charged into the battle, trying to beat back the horsemen. Beva, trying to hold onto the calliston suddenly tripped and fell on her face, leaving her exposed. One of the horsemen stood up in his stirrups, aiming his bow at the little girl. Yona shrieked in fear and charged at his horse.
Then, from behind them came a huge roar, and the powerful calliston leapt forward, his great, clawed front feet landing either side of the small girl protectively. The horseman tried to slash at the calliston, but Eldola smashed his head into the man, sending him flying and broken from his horse.
Yona was desperately trying to unseat another horseman when she felt a slice across her arm. She jumped back in agony, crashing into Phoran, and the blood flowed from a vicious wound. Beak saw she was wounded and his eyes darkened. Standing right in the middle of the fight, he grabbed his bow again, and at point-blank range, killed two horsemen instantly. The remaining Keffra, realising they had lost the fight, pulled back, turned their horses, and galloped east. Two of the other archers, taking Beaks cue, killed two more of their number. As the Keffra rode into the distance, Eldola rose up high onto his hind legs and bellowed across the plain in defiance and fear.
Beak looked up at him. “Got you!” he said in understanding, and he leant back and loosed two more arrows high and fast, one after the other, and felled the last two horsemen.
Yona turned to look for Beva and for a moment could not see her. And then she looked up and put her hand to her mouth. Eldola, still raised up high, was cradling the girl in his arms. He slowly lowered her to the ground and stroked her face. She was shaking and quivering, and the tears were flowing down her dirty cheeks. Yona wrapped her in her arms. She looked up at the big, beautiful face of the calliston, not bowed down as he normally was, but raised up proudly.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for protecting her.” To her amazement, the massive creature looked down at her and bowed his head, just a little, and blinked at her. He had understood.
They lit a large fire that night and cooked a stew from the meat the Pharsil-Hin had supplied them. The nomads had not just given them hides and bows, but two pots, large spoons, and a couple of knives for cooking. It was a generous gift, but Yona realised as she sorted through the bag of bits which included tools to work the ground, it was so much more than it looked. With these few carefully chosen items, the nomads had given them the chance to survive.
Beak seemed almost angry as he stitched and bandaged Yona’s arm properly after they had eaten. All of them involved in the fight had injuries, but her wound was the worst, and she had left it till everyone else was tended.
“You are their leader,” he snapped at her. “You are not meant to get killed.”
“I am not the leader!” she protested.
“Yes, you are. Who else is there?”
“Phoran? Hekon? Daintine? You even!”
“Not me!” he growled angrily. “And not the others, either. Why do you think they are all here? I heard you and Phoran talking and he is right. They are your people now.”
Yona fell quiet for a moment and then looked up at Beak. “You are not going to stay, are you.”
“I will for a bit, but after that, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
He had asked her that before when she had asked his age. She wasn’t going to back down this time. “Yes, it does!” she barked.
“Why?” His eyes were cold and his voice hard. “Why is it so important, girl?”
Yona raised her hand and slapped him around the face, hard. “Because I need you, you selfish bastard. I need a father!” Yona opened her eyes wide, shocked at what she had just said, then grabbed the cloth from him and stalked into the dark, finishing the dressing herself. Phoran came and sat down next to the stunned man.
“We both lost our families. Well, I didn’t have many to lose, but she lost her father and her uncle and her mother in the same boat when she was ten, the same age as Beva. I have been her brother, her friend, her lover and every member of her family I could think of being, but there was one person I have never managed to replace; her father.”
“Not her mother?” asked Beak, quietly.
“Her mother was a bitter, uncaring woman. She was never cruel and never hurt Yona, but I am not sure she loved her that much either. Yona’s father doted on her. He taught her to tie nets, plane wood, grow vegetables. Taught her everything he knew about horses and other animals, all when she was very young. After he died, neighbours took her in and they were very kind to her. They fed her and loved her, and the woman taught her to read and write, but they were not like her father.”
“I am not like her father either.”
“Yes you are. Very like him. Or you would be if you were not insisting on living in the past!” Phoran stood and followed after Yona. He really liked Beak, and he knew what Yona saw in him, and knew she needed him, but at that moment, he could easily have punched him.
Eldola was all but dancing from foot to foot the following morning, but between him and the Kelaine hills lay the river Al-ne-Kelaine, and Yona could see it was troubling him. Although it looked shallower than the river Cor-En, it was still a briskly moving obstacle that was going to be difficult for the humans to cross at this spot without the help of the Calliston. It would be safer if they could cross without riding him in case he panicked again. Phoran had suggested they scout upstream for a league or two with the Keffra horses, looking for a shallower stretch where at least the humans could cross separately, but Yona was worried the big animal would refuse to head west, away from the hills.
“He will follow you,” said Beak, walking up to her and wiping down his bow.
“Are you talking to me this morning?” asked Yona. She felt guilty for hitting him the previous evening, but she was still a little angry at him too.
Beak ignored her question. “I think you will have to walk with him, but he will follow. Take Beva with you as well. He is very protective of her.”
“I know he understands more than we think he should, but I am not sure if that makes a huge difference here.”
“Protecting Beva like he did? Tha