‘Tastes burnt,’ Kata says of the coffee.
‘It is burnt,’ says Taj. ‘Everything here is burnt.’
Desert sands swirl and dance across the dunes, interrupted by black scorches that mark the outline of the torched camp.
‘Desert raiders?’
Taj shakes his head. ‘The people who lived here did this to themselves.’ He points up at the distant mountains - domes of orange against the dusty pink sky - and says, ‘They went there. They torched all this so no one else could have it.’
‘Except this,’ Kata holds up the flame-warped tin of coffee. ‘They couldn’t take all this with them?’
‘No time,’ says Taj, tightening the saddlebags of his horse. ‘They were being followed.’
‘By what?’ Kata says, standing.
Taj nods at the horizon. A thin line of dark riders bristles in the mirage, heading towards them.
‘By them. Pick up your sword.’
Paddy Dobson
25th May 2022