Chapter 33: Back to Scorch
Dragon Realm Scorch
Guster disembarked immediately and let the crowd sweep him away. Scowling, Avalon pressed after him, flinching as the stench of close-quarters sweat and laborers' filth washed over her in the throng of people.
The stables lay before them. Several types of creatures wandered in their individual pens: horses, borgren, ostriches, and sand striders, all adequate for traversing Scorch's rough terrain, and all priced according to their utility. Horses were reliable but expensive, while a reptilian sand strider lacked speed but was attuned for the desert.
Guster leaned on the thick wooden fence of the pen housing the large, hippo-like borgren. He eyed one with greenish-yellow scales sloppily chewing the hay and swinging its flat head about to look at them. Bigger than his old one; stouter too. Avalon joined the bounty hunter after inspecting two cream-spotted horses.
“Do you have enough sendetti for those?” she asked, pointing to the steeds.
“Just enough, but we ain’t gettin’ horses.” Guster smiled as he pointed to the slow-moving beast, “What we are gettin’ is dis here good ole’ borgren.”
Avalon raised an eyebrow. “Horses are faster,” she argued.
“Faster, sure, but for de price of two horses, we can get a borgren and a wagon. Our scaly friend will weather de heat better, trust me, blue. Besides, you'd rather nap in a wagon over sittin’ on a saddle.”
Avalon squinted an eye at the lumbering creature then back at Guster's silly grin. “It's your coin,” she finally sighed.
***
Between the borgren and the rations for the trip, Guster counted two silver sendetti in his palm. He let out a long drawn out moan. the Network would no longer provide him with the connections that he took for granted. They were a family to him. He was raised in the Network. Bounty Hunting was all he ever knew. He ran with his father and then partnered up with Siv for
their Knives and Needle crew, now he had none of that. Now he was tossed like a piece of trash to fend off the elements all by himself. He needed to capture the Iron Soul, now more than ever.
A punch into his shoulder broke through his thoughts.
“Hey, I asked you a question!” Avalon shouted.
The two of them drove along the side of a small canyon. The red cliffside spilt over pebbles and dust as the wagon creaked forward. A roaring river cut through below, keeping a mist of cool air from overpowering the two travelers with the cruel heat.
Guster rubbed his arm, adjusting his seat at the driver side of the wagon. so that he was a bit further from the wrath of his traveling companion who sat next to him, “I ain't hear you, girl! No need to beat me to death!”
Avalon growled and glared at the bounty hunter. Guster caught her deathly stare and shrunk his head into his coat so that the collar hid his sheepish face. “Alright, blue. What's your question?”
“How far are we from Nacsirri?”
“Eh well, Whately Coast ain't a short detour. We have to head south for a while. Look to your right. You see de Zacheriah River?” he waited for Avalon to peer over the rocky ledge and down to the rushing waters below, “The Zacheriah cuts west, but if we follow it for de next few days we'll be halfway dere... if we were heading to Nacsirri”
“I thought we were going to Nacsirri?”
Guster chuckled, “Uther will have his guide by now. Traveling from Whately Coast was unexpected. Nah, we have to meet him in de Deserts of de Damned now.”
“I can’t believe Uther is still alive.” Avalon watched the river wash over the slick rocks below. “And now I have to fight him again... to enslave him.”
Guster held silent. He harkened back to when Avalon was beaten and bloodied after she was granted her freedom from the arena. The same day he lost his connection to the one friend he had.
Aw Siv, why do we have to be enemies? I miss our chemistry. If only my apology would mean something to you.
He sneaked a glance at Avalon, hoping she'd let it pass. Her stern eyes met his. She definitely had not let it pass. “Thorton's spear, girl! You know what I do for a livin’.”
“I’d prefer to kill Uther instead of enslave a man. I would have never agreed to your favor if I had a choice!”
“You forget who bought you your freedom? I did!” snarled Guster.
“After you put me in chains in the first place!” Avalon snapped back baring her teeth.
“Maybe I should have left you to rot in de pits, maybe den you'd learn some respect!”
“Respect for you? Oh, that's rich!” Avalon threw up her hands with a dry laugh. “You stuck up bitch! You owe me your life!”
There was an uncomfortable silence between the two for a while. Guster was partially embarrassed he let the Silent One get the best of him. Before, only Siv had the guts to challenge his attitude. He gritted his teeth in frustration before pulling out his box of bliss sticks.
Avalon crawled into the covered wagon to sort through their supplies but took quick notice of a figure in the distance. The light bouncing off the heat made the view wavy, but Avalon was sure she was looking at a rider on horseback. She strained her sight harder, focusing her Black Rabbit senses to increase her perception of the stranger. White coat and a cowboy hat. The stranger’s face was hidden by a red bandana, but those distinct features could only belong to Siv.
“Guster, I think we are being followed,” reported Avalon.
Guster looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, a rider was gaining speed on their slow borgren.
“Damn it, dat can’t be Siv!” he cursed, “We lost dat woman in Sparrowport.”
“I’m sure all she had to do was ask the wharf master about us and chart one of the other boats to Whately Coast.”
“She always was a clever hunter.”
“Do you have a plan?” asked Avalon.
Guster’s eyes followed the pathway to a thin foot bridge going across the canyon. He formulated their next course of action, although it would be a gamble. However, he considered himself a betting man.
“Her horse would catch up to us in no time. Running isn’t an option.” Guster pointed to the rickety bridge far on the cliffs. “See dat bridge?”
“You want us to make a stand up there?”
“She’s outnumbered. We got dis, blue!”
Avalon frowned just thinking about the idea. “I hope you’re right about this.”
Guster took a drag of his bliss stick. “Trust me, blue.”