Elinor. The Deserted Valley. Book 1. Mikhail Shelkov

skin was light beige, covered by a multitude of cracks, resembling the scales of a sand dragon.

      No sooner had Jumanna come to her senses than the huge figure of Khallan, the commander of the military detachment accompanying the caravan, appeared before her.

      Another one!

      Khallan was simply huge, with impressive muscles easily discerned under his robe and thin mail. But something unnatural could be read in his movements. Khallan walked slowly, like a lion in a menagerie that growls only to amuse the crowd.

      Jumanna knew what real warriors looked like. Inconspicuous, quiet, silent. But as soon as there was danger, their spears flew with the speed of lightning. She doubted the swords and spears of Khallan and his companions were as fast.

      “Well, is it difficult?” Khallan inquired with a grin that resembled a scowl.

      How tired I am of this!

      “No,” she cut him off, and turned around defiantly.

      “I wanted to help,” the warrior spoke to her retreating figure, evidently displeased.

      “How?” Jumanna turned her head.

      Khallan pondered. The young woman, meanwhile, set off once again to where her students were already taking down the tent.

      “Jumanna! Jumanna! I killed a huge scorpion!” Makacash, one of the youngest boys, but incredibly lively and agile, told her joyfully. His favorite toy was the sword. Of course, one big enough only for child’s play, but rather weighty for a boy his age. As soon as he grew up, the sand dragons would face a great threat.

      “Have you not tired of your great feats yet?” Jumanna patted his head gently.

      “Oh, this isn’t a poisonous scorpion!” the inquisitive Astramed was already squatting beside the scorpion, cut by the sword. The scorpion, it must be noted, was really big, the length of three palms.

      Astramed could be distinguished by his scientific, childishly funny, inquisitiveness. Upon encountering a plant or animal in the desert, he would immediately begin discussing it, much more rarely enquiring about it, if he did not know something. Jumanna herself had learned many new and interesting things from him.

      Calif, who had employed several younger students to help him, was completing the work on the folding of the tent.

      “Do you not wish to help?” Jumanna addressed Mulaf, who was lying in the shade of the barсhan, looking at the sky. He stood up reluctantly and went to Calif.

      I say, some people are lazy by nature!

      Half an hour later, the long string of hunchbacked animals, set off, burned by the cruel sun of the Great Desert.

      Jumanna did not want to mount, and led her camel by the reins. She was caught up to by a mounted astronomer, Umal Al-Dassay. At first, he rode a little further, then easily dismounted his camel and began leading him.

      “I see that you do not feel very comfortable here?” the astronomer began with an inquisitive tone.

      He was an old man. An old man by years. Wrinkled, with a snow white beard and same colored hair, which peeped out from under his turbot. His purple robe with silver stars sewn onto it fluttered in the wind. It was unlikely this outfit was intended for a journey through the desert.

      He’s going there too!

      “I feel exceptionally well on this journey!” Jumanna looked into his eyes.

      “I’m not talking about this… " the astronomer continued apologetically. “I’m sure that you will easily cross the Great Desert on your own… I’m speaking in regards to the increased attention you are receiving from the men accompanying the caravan… it annoys you!”

      “It does annoy me!” agreed Jumanna.

      “Understand, you are young and beautiful”

      “I’ve been on many different journeys since I was a child!”

      “Hear me out and do not interrupt!” the astronomer chastised, raising his voice a little. “You accompany the children. And no one even cares about how they are handling the journey. Certainly, no one was interested in you when you traveled as a child. But you are a caretaker. Do you remember a time when caravans were ever accompanied by women? No, most definitely not. There exist male crafts and there exist female ones, it is not necessary to mix the two. Do agree with me? The world would look ridiculous if men begin to weave carpets, while women hunted scorpio-anglers.”

      Do you think your purple robe does not look ridiculous in the sand?

      “I do not want to offend you or your age… " Jumanna began cautiously. “You are cheerful and strong in spirit; you sit perfectly in the saddle. But have you seen whom the Academy usually sends as caretakers? These are elderly people who struggle with the journey. Would I not be more useful? I do not want to dragon hunt… It is truly a man’s craft… But why should a woman not be a caretaker? An astronomer?”

      “An a-stro-no-mer!” the old man stretched each syllable. “Never have I in my time ever met a woman astronomer!”

      “Then look at me carefully!” Jumanna could not restrain herself.

      “You?”

      “I’ve done more than a dozen voyages as an on-board astronomer!” the young woman appeared to be trying to justify herself.

      Al-Dassay only shook his head.

      “What do you want from me? For me to turn around and leave the caravan?”

      “You have already chosen your path,” the old man said calmly. “You are full of enthusiasm and determination. However, you should be more attentive and understand that this is not accepted. Yes, you are more useful in the journey than the decrepit old men of the Academy, but this cannot be explained to the other members of the caravan who see a woman caretaker for the first time! Since you agreed to this journey, be ready for such unhealthy attention!”

      With the same ease, Al-Dassay jumped onto his camel and nudged it on towards the front of the caravan.

      The mood for the day was completely ruined, making the walk difficult as the sun scorched them mercilessly.

      For some reason, the sun felt gentle in any city, as if it were soothing, sending kindness with its every ray. In the desert, it simply scorched everything in its path, filling its beams with all the anger and malice it had accumulated against people. Now, it punished them.

      What did the inhabitants of the deserts do wrong?

      In the south of the Djunitian land, there is even a small port – the Bay of the Evil Sun. It was necessary to build a port near Darif, a mining town with fine iron ore, and the shore was completely unsuitable for this. It was decided to lay the settlement on the only somewhat suitable location, a small streamlet near a small cove. During the construction of the port, heat and dehydration killed more than a thousand people. That was how the port got its name. Although the port was a necessity for traders, she wondered, had the merchants ever dwelled on the price paid to create this harbor?

      The sand was ready to melt beneath the hooves of the camels. Tangut’s elephant trailed at the back of the caravan and its owner was barely breathing, yet remained in the saddle. Jumanna knew if the caravan arrived a few days late, money would be lost, and Tangut would rather die on the road than lose his profit.

      He is not at all fit for camp life, but dares to offer me help! If someone here cannot cope with the hardships of this journey, it is him. I hope he is lonely!

      The fleeting thought of Tangut once again being affected by a series of stomach problems, or something else, amused her. Jumanna had never harbored any malice, but desired justice for his treatment of her.

      On the way, we saw the skeleton of a huge lizard, probably the size of a camel. Giant lizards were