30 Dreaming Of Rainstorm

The scorching sun, a relentless disc of fire, hung high in the sky before them, beating down on the parched earth. The precious water they had prepared before leaving had dwindled, most of it consumed by the thirsty horses. Just as the sun began to dip, painting the horizon in a haze of orange and red, Taban ordered everyone to rest for the night.

Chinua sank to the ground, surprised to find the southern earth so much harder than the north's, unyielding, as if stripped of all moisture by the relentless heat. After splashing her face with her prepared towel, a jolt of alarm went through her: her forehead was burning.

"Khenbish," Chinua called, her voice a little rough. "Look at my brow, is it burned?"

Khenbish peered at her, his brow furrowing with concern. "Chinua, your forehead is completely sunburned. It's bright red."

Chinua frowned. "I should have covered my forehead too, but this handkerchief is just too small."

"You're not the only one, trust me," Erden chimed in, pointing a finger to his own peeling forehead. "Mine's worse than yours!"

Terbish sighed dramatically. "We seriously need to figure something else out, otherwise by the time we reach South Gate Camp, we'll all be baked like crispy offerings, ready to be eaten."

Och turned to Muunokhoi, a curious glint in his eye. "Hey, why isn't your face burned?"

Muunokhoi offered a sheepish, guilty smile. "I… I put a layer of clay on my forehead. My father told me it would protect your skin from the sun and mosquitoes."

Timicin roared, flinging his empty water bag at Muunokhoi. "You bastard! You knew about this and didn't tell us?" His face was a mask of annoyance. "Are you happy knowing our foreheads are burning and aching?"

Muunokhoi meekly picked up the empty water bag. "I thought everyone knew about it!"

"Next time," Chaghatai grumbled, though a smile twitched at his lips, "I'll make sure to shout 'watch out' after you've already been struck by an arrow."

"Hey!" Muunokhoi retorted, feigning indignation. "You'd better be nice to me, or you're going to find extra dirt in your meal!"

Chinua clapped her hands, bringing them back to order. "Let's see how much water we all have, and we'll divide it equally."

"That's right! Let me see," Terbish agreed, quickly grabbing the water bag from his waist. He uncorked it, peering inside. "Mine and Erden's are only half empty!"

"As you can see," Timicin declared, holding up his empty bag, "I have no water at all."

"I don't even have half of mine left," Khenbish admitted.

Khunbish spoke softly. "Chinua's and mine are both halves gone."

Chaghatai took charge, collecting what little water remained and carefully distributing it amongst the twelve of them. "Let's just pray we cross this dry land before our water runs out completely."

Och murmured, his eyes glazed with exhaustion, "It feels like we'll run out of water long before we reach the top of that mountain."

"Right now," Terbish said, his voice tinged with desperation, "I'm hoping for a huge storm to come our way."

Chinua frowned, a shiver running through her despite the heat. "I've always hated storms, but at this moment, I wouldn't mind one at all."

Muunokhoi asked, his voice genuinely curious, "Chinua, why do you hate storms?"

"I don't like the sound of thunder," Chinua confessed, a faint memory stirring within her. "I was born on a thunderous night."

Och smiled dreamily. "I love to sleep when it rains because I was born on a rainy night. I don't recall any thunder, but I'm pretty sure it was raining."

Timicin scoffed good-naturedly. "How can you be so sure? You'd only just been born!"

Och chuckled. "My parents told me so, and my grandmother even confirmed it."

The eleven soldiers sat around the meager campfire, sharing stories of their youth, their families, and their friends.

Timicin looked at Chinua, his expression softening. "How about you, Chinua? How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"Me?" Chinua paused, then continued, "Ahem… my father had three wives. I had a brother and three stepbrothers and three stepsisters. My mother desperately wanted my brother to join the army, but he had problems with his legs, preventing him from walking. So, I joined the army on his behalf."

Muunokhoi's eyes widened. "What? So, is Chinua your name, or your brother's name?"

"My name is Chinua," she affirmed. "My brother's name is Ba."

"Chinua… enough," Khunbish interjected softly, a note of warning in his voice.

Chinua realized she might have revealed too much. "Okay," she conceded, her voice barely a whisper.

Terbish leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Chinua, for the past two years, we've been wondering how a woman like you could possibly join the Northern Army. Can you at least tell us why?"

Chinua sighed. "I made a bet with a very senior officer that I would finish my training without any special treatment, unlike everyone else. I'm sorry, I truly can't tell you more than that."

Timicin's mind churned. He yearned to know more, to understand how high this person was, someone who could make Batzorig so outwardly fearful. Anyone higher than Batzorig was likely a favored family member or even a concubine of King Batukhan's.

Chinua looked at her friends, her gaze firm. "I promised everyone I will let you know who I am when the time comes. Please, don't mention this again in the future."

Chinua picked up two pieces of dry beef and a roasted potato. She rose and walked over to where Hye sat, his hands still bound. She placed the potato and beef carefully in front of him.

Hye scoffed, his eyes blazing. "If you don't untie me, how am I supposed to eat?" He looked at Chinua, his voice laced with indignation. "To be honest, you don't need to tie my hands like this. Look around you—where could I possibly run to?"

Chinua met his gaze, unflinching. "I'll take you all the way to Southern Gate Camp."

Hye's eyes narrowed. "I understand now. Just because I refused to help you, you framed and kidnapped me."

Chinua simply stated, "You said it yourself; you wouldn't help anyone in the Northern Camp. But down south, that's different."

"Even if you torture me, or even kill me, I won't help," Hye declared, his jaw set stubbornly.

Chinua laughed, a soft, confident sound. "I'm sure you'll change your mind."

Hye hesitated, then offered a desperate gambit. "If you tell me who you are, I might consider helping you."

"No deal," Chinua replied, her expression hardening. "In your dream, you cried out Nabi's name. Everything that happened to Nabi must be unforgettable for you."

Hye exploded, his eyes wild with fury. "You dare mention Nabi's name in front of me, Magoli!" He clenched his fists, knuckles white with rage.

"There is no deal," Chinua reiterated calmly. "You called Nabi in your dream. And what happened to Nabi may now be happening to people in southern Hmagol. With your talents, you can save many Nabis in need. But by refusing to help, you're creating hundreds of Hyes."

Hye shook his head, a profound disappointment etching his features. "One person's knowledge can never change the course of history. Don't misunderstand me, Magoli—I saw it with my own eyes."

Chinua leaned in, her voice earnest. "How can you be sure that a single piece of knowledge cannot change the course of history? Perhaps that person's knowledge was simply used at the wrong time and place."

Hye scoffed, his bitterness evident. "You know very well you can never help all the people who need your help. Why do you even bother?"

"I know I can't help everyone, and I've accepted that," Chinua admitted, her gaze unwavering. "But at the same time, I've never given up, because I will try to help as many people as possible."

Hye sneered, looking at Chinua with a cynical pity. "You are dreaming of a rainstorm that will never come your way."

Chinua's head lifted, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "At least I have a dream, and I'm working hard for it."

Hye let out a mirthless laugh, mocking what he perceived as Chinua's foolishness. "Why are you trying to change something that can never be changed?"

Chinua stood, her voice clear and resonant. "If you want to change something, you have to work towards it. Sitting here, wasting your life away, the change you want will never happen. You asked Khawn if he is on the right side of history. At least he has chosen a side. How about you, Hye? Are you on the right side of history?" She took a step back. "So, tell me, Hye… do you want to join me in changing history?"

Hye was speechless. He found no words to refute Chinua's argument. He could only stare at her retreating form, watching her walk away. He slowly picked up the roasted potato and took a small bite. "I'm not even sure if I'm alive," he murmured to himself, the words barely audible. "How can I be sure which side of history I'm on?" He sighed, his gaze drifting to the embers of the fire. "Nabi… her words affect my thoughts. Am I on the right path?"

The next day, as the Southern Army continued its relentless rush towards the South Gate Camp, the thirteen Northern Army soldiers began to sweat profusely, their faces glistening under the harsh sun. The southern soldiers, seemingly unaffected, strode past them, offering cheerful smiles.

Taban looked at Haitao, a sympathetic grin on his face, and tossed his almost empty water bag to him. "You're not used to this weather yet. You will be, soon enough."

"I've been to the south before," Haitao admitted, uncorking the bag and taking a cautious sip, "but I've never been this far south." He tossed the water bag back to Taban. "How much further do we have to go?"

"Not far," Taban promised, pointing ahead. "We're very close to the village. Just over that mountain."

Haitao scoffed, a dry sound. "Still far away… I can barely see what's ahead."

Taban chuckled. "Southern Camp has another name."

Haitao looked taken aback. "Oh? Why haven't I heard of it?"

"Only the people who live there know it," Taban said, turning to look at his own comrades. "Guys, what do we call South Gate Camp?"

"Paradise City!" The soldiers shouted in unison; their voices filled with anticipation.

Timicin watched the smiling southern soldiers as they answered Taban's question, a new spark of hope igniting within him.

"This City of Paradise," Timicin mused, a wide smile spreading across his face. "I want to see it."

"Soon you will, when we get to the top of that mountain," a soldier riding by Timicin said with a grin. "I can smell home from here." He chuckled, a sound of pure contentment.

Though she had hidden behind Khunbish for the entire journey, Chinua still felt the intense heat radiating from her face. Her complexion, while naturally darker than the average Hmagol women in the north, was nowhere near as tanned as the soldiers who had traveled with her these past days. Chinua lifted the top of her water bag, but no more water flowed from it. She swallowed lightly, her throat dry.

"No more water, Khunbish," she frowned, her voice a little strained. "Did you drink any water before we ran out?"

Khunbish lied easily, his voice gentle. "I have. Don't worry about me."

Khenbish looked at Chinua, his expression grave. "Khawn and I have no water either."

Two soldiers rode past, and one of them, his face weathered but kind, patted Chinua on the back. "Hold on, soldier. We're almost home," he said, extending his almost empty water bag to her. "Not much left, but it might quench your thirst."

Chinua took the water bag and, without hesitation, tossed it to Khenbish. "You two drink first," she insisted.

Khenbish lifted the lid and took a small, careful sip. He then handed the water bag to Khawn, who sat behind him. Khawn took a sip, his eyes grateful, and passed the bag to Chinua. Chinua took it, then immediately offered it to Khunbish.

"Drink," she urged.

Khunbish took the almost empty bag, took a sip, and returned it to Chinua. Holding the water bag, Chinua estimated there was only enough water for one or two more people.

"Timicin," Chinua said, extending the water bag to him.

Timicin took it, noting the meager amount left. He took a small sip, just enough to moisten his mouth, and handed the bottle back to Chinua.

Chinua brought the water bag to her mouth, then, with a decision in her eyes, handed it to Hye. "Here."

Hye took the water bag, his eyes wide, and drank quickly, draining it to the last drop. He held the empty bottle, looking at Chinua. Chinua swiftly adjusted her handkerchief, covering her face again, avoiding his gaze. Hye felt a pang of guilt, seeing that Chinua had not taken a single sip herself.

With no more saliva on the tip of her tongue, Chinua began to truly feel the oppressive effects of the heat. She had always loathed the rainy season, but now, in the scorching summer, on this dry, desolate land, she could only wish, with every fiber of her being, for a torrential rainstorm as they continued their arduous climb up the mountain.