Elinor. The Deserted Valley. Book 1. Mikhail Shelkov
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to the Skies” by Azir Amunjadee.
They managed to save a solid piece of dense fabric, from which the boys made a canopy on the stones to hide from the sun. Without any superfluous conversations, everyone got busy working; even Mulaf did not shirk. By noon, all the useful belongings were transferred to the stones. Their food supplies would last them a week or two, but their water supply was not sufficient. Jumanna counted the empty flasks and gave the students the task of collecting dew from the stones in the evening, so they could fill everything.
“Try to squeeze the stones, because we need full flasks!” she commanded in such an imperious voice that she surprised even herself.
Of course, she knew that with evening dew, you could hardly fill a sixth of a small wineskin. But to tell the children this would bring them into a state of despair.
It’s better for them to be motivated!
Then there was a short conversation with Lamis. It was necessary to understand where to next lead the group. Not that Lamis was any good at this, but Jumanna needed someone mature to talk to. The fact that the decision had to be made by her alone was unavoidable.
Jumanna was on the brink of turning back. However, after delving into the maps, she realized it would be easier to reach Muo, a city in the southeast of the Valley, than return to Kay-Samiluf or to try to return to the Ayno-Suf path.
Their salvation lay in the north!
Salvation in the north…hmm… The book of Azir Amunjadee. Only the first volume survived. In it, the text speaks about the Ito Empire. The Ito Empire! The north! It’s probably silly to think in this way… it’s just a coincidence. But, again, my foreboding! It tells me this is no accident. It’s as though an unknown powerful force is leading me in the right direction.
The sun had passed the zenith and the children fit under the tiny shadow of the handmade awning. They kept close together as there wasn’t much room. A couple of girls cried quietly, desperately wanting to return to their mothers. The older girl tried in vain to cheer them up. Moualdar also babbled something parent-related to himself, but it seemed more out of habit than from fear. Jumanna noticed that the other students seemed to be glaring avidly into her eyes and waiting for her decisions. Loyalty, devotion, and readiness followed wherever she commanded – that was what she read in those eyes. Only at that moment did Jumanna understand what exactly she had done for her students.
“In the evening, we are setting off to Muo!” she announced, now no longer just the caretaker, but also the head of the caravan, the astronomer, and the commander of the warriors.
The warriors, as such, were absent, really. It was only Calif and the restless Makacash, but what were such warriors against the scorpio-anglers and sand dragons? And what is a caravan in the desert without camels?
A doomed caravan.
But Jumanna pulled herself together and immediately drove away the black thoughts.
6
They slept until evening. As soon as the sun set, they filled the flasks with water and set off towards the northeast, in the direction of the rays of the Star of the Marawie in the constellation of the Lion.
Jumanna was strict: the procession would walk only at night! Firstly, it was easier for her to navigate the stars, secondly, a longer distance could be covered. Crossing the desert with children during the day could end very badly. And, thirdly, it would be easier to distinguish scorpio-anglers at night! With the onset of twilight, the scorpio-anglers got out of the sand, and the light the monsters lit on their sting was visible from afar. On the other hand, at night it was easier to fall into the underground cave of a sand dragon.
Jumanna led the procession. Behind her trotted the deft boys, encouraged by Makacash. Calif walked in the middle, holding his new sword on his shoulder, ready for battle. Lamis and the other girls closed the procession. They constantly lagged behind. As a result, Calif had to take the baby Munu-Aiya on his shoulders and with that, the group went a little faster.
At night, the desert filled with sounds. Insects came out of their hidden holes and filled the boundless space with their buzzing. Astramed, with an intelligent look on his face, distinguished each sound and identified each insect: a cicada, a rattler, a desert mosquito, a blowfly, a sand eater.
The caretaker moved progressively at a controlled pace, but at a certain moment she was overcome with turmoil. She felt pressure on her shoulders, pressure that grew stronger and stronger with every step. This inner voice that had tanged yesterday about their impending doom now got louder. It was as though the inner voice was dampening the other voice, the one commanding to fight until the end and move towards their goal. At some point, the voice of doom filled her whole consciousness, and she was ready to surrender, powerlessly collapse into the sand and accept fate. But when she turned to look back, in the flickering starlight she caught a glimpse of the faces of twenty-three people. For each of them, even for Calif, this passage was even harder than for her. For them, she, who was ahead, remained the only hope.
“If you give up, you will ruin them and ruin yourself!” a more confident voice now sounded in her head, opposing the voice of despair. It reminded Jumanna of her father’s voice.
The dawn’s rays highlighted the outline of a new stone ridge. Fortune favored the travelers!
They collected the morning dew, put up their makeshift cover, ate, drank water, and went to bed before the sun began to scorch the Great Desert. Jumanna looked at the students as everyone fell asleep. Then she sat on a rock, clasped her hands on her knees, leaned her head against them and sobbed violently.
The last time she had cried was when she turned eighteen years old.
7
That night there was another march. It was becoming harder. The moisture from the dew was negligible and the flasks were empty. The water had to be saved.
The girls began to be more erratic; the boys mumbled under their breath. The pupils perked up when Jumanna reprimanded them angrily.
“We’re in the desert! In the desert, do you understand? If you barely drag your feet, you face death! You can cry, but it won’t help! Walk on! Walk as quickly as possible – this is our only salvation!”
It was dawn, but this time there was no rocky shelter. A rag canopy had to be established right on the sand. Sleep was torturous! Everyone was thirsty, but their water supply was decreasing further and further.
When the evening twilight came, the students who had nervously tossed about in the afternoon finally fell asleep together. Even Calif succumbed to it. His strength, bravery, and height helped Jumanna forget that he was only sixteen.
She left the canopy and climbed to the high barchans to contemplate the endless expanse, and as she had done eighteen years ago, plunged into the black abyss. Feeling alone in the universe as the bright Star of Marawie infused hope inside of her, Jumanna took hold of the chain with the pearl and golden key.
“Father,” she whispered. “Where are you now? I feel that that place is somewhere far away… not with Itoshins, not with Vedichs, but there, among the distant stars. Help me! Help me, oh stars! Give me and my students the strength we need. Help us, Star of the Marawie, the brightest star of the south! Help me, the ancient hero of the legends! Help, Sand Lion! Once you brought our people out of the Valley, and now help us return there! I, your descendant, Jumanna Inaiya Khaniya Amatt, I beg you of this!”
And it seemed that the star winked at her, for a moment flashing many times brighter.
A trick of the senses, or not?
She had gotten too carried away and was daydreaming, as a fatigue like none before manifested itself in her body.
Jumanna did not remember how she returned to the students and fell asleep.
She woke up with the first rays of dawn,