Into The Ruins (15 page)

He was surprised to be alive.  By all rights he should be dead.  He was even more surprised that he actually felt reasonably well.  Maybe he was mistaken.  He could have died and this was the afterlife.  He was warm, but he could sense even with his eyes closed that he was in the shade.  He wondered how that could be seeing the Ruins seldom offered shade, but he was so relaxed that he didn’t want to open his eyes.  That just seemed like too much work.  He let himself drift for a while, enjoying the occasional hint of breeze that was just enough to disturb the hair on his arms.  The tiny hairs moved with the mild gusts, an entirely pleasant sensation.  He knew he should open his eyes and evaluate his situation, but he was a little afraid this would all disappear, and he’d find himself laying on the harsh sands of the Ruins next to the disappointingly small bush he’d worked so hard to reach.  He’d also have to face the reality that Burke and Tara were more than likely dead as a result of his failure and he was alone in this Risos cursed place.

That’s when he heard the water.  The sound that reached his ear wasn’t loud, but he could hear as the liquid trickled over a rock and splashed a short distance away into the larger body of water below.
Water?
In the Ruins? 
That was something he had to see.

He forced his eyes to open, despite their reluctance to do so.  He expected the harsh bright light that assaulted the eyes here in the devastated lands, but he was facing toward the trunk of a large tree and shielded by the shade of its wide leaves that extended above him.  He couldn’t say he recognized the type of tree, nor any of the bushes that grew around him.  He lay on a cushion of soft thick grass that extended to the ring of brush, and then less uniformly for some distance beyond. 

More effort was going to be required to investigate the enticing sounds that had forced him awake, but for the moment he wanted to enjoy the relaxing view that greeted his first look.  Gathering his resolve, he pushed up on his left elbow, then forced himself over so he could see in the opposite direction.  He hadn’t been mistaken.  Shielded from the harsh sun of the Ruins, which he could still see in the distance he realized suddenly, was a large pool of blue water.  Off to his left he could see a small creek, filled with slowly flowing water that tumbled over the small rocks in the streambed as it made its way into the pond.  At the moment he couldn’t see the pond outlet, but there must be one else the waters would continue to rise, and he could see that this pond was stable, its shores well marked by the vegetation that surrounded it.

He saw something else nearby that caught his immediate attention.  Burke and Tara were lying a couple of paces away, both comfortably positioned on the grass.  Tara was facing him and he could see that her chest was slowly falling and rising as if she were in a comfortable sleep.  Burke was facing away from him, but he thought he could detect movement there as well. 
How had they gotten here?
  Rigo’s last memories were of the small brush and a sense of failure.  He knew he’d been in no shape to carry either of them anywhere, even had there been somewhere to strive for. 

The tantalizing sounds of the creek couldn’t be ignored any longer.  He pushed himself erect, and stumbled toward the pond, realizing his thirst was nowhere what it should have been.  He paused briefly to check on Burke, then made his way toward the pond, kneeling down to test the water.  The water wasn’t cold, but neither was it hot.  His wizard’s senses confirmed that it was pure and safe, and he cupped his hands and drank his fill.  As he turned back toward his companions, he noticed his backpack and the two waterskins sitting on a rock in the shade.  Both skins had been filled.  Sitting next to the skins were a couple of bowls made of baked clay, filled with a white mush and several wooden spoons.  Beside the bowls were the cuttings from some of the dart spitting plants, the large bulbs cleaned and stripped of their outer skins, looking white and almost inviting.  He suspected that the mush in the bowls had been made from the plants. 
They were edible?

Bewildered, he reached out and grabbed one of the skins, then carried it over toward Burke.  He dribbled a little of the life giving liquid onto his lips, then did the same with Tara.  He checked each, and found they appeared well, and were in a deep sleep.  He sat between them and tried to gather his thoughts.  He was momentarily interrupted by the sharp call of one of the high flying birds they had sought to follow, and his eyes watched as a pair descended from the sky to land in one of the taller trees on the far side of the pond.  One laid something from its beak on the limb, and the two of them began to tear at the flesh of their prize.

Given the normalcy of the current surroundings, Rigo held his breath and tested his magic.  It worked!  He could feel his abilities had returned.  Quickly he  attempted to make a
Bypass
, and was rewarded with the appearance of the familiar arch.  Part of him wanted to stand up and run into it, but knowing it was possible was enough.  He let the arch fade away.  He’d make another when they had all recovered and had a long look at this miracle that had saved them.

Now that he was fully awake, Rigo could recall a strange jumble of unlikely memories.  He thought he could envision riding atop a Hoplani, supported between a pair of short, oddly dressed natives.  They had been short, coming only to the middle of his chest, with skin colored almost to match the sands of the Ruins.  Their hair was thick and white, with heavy eyebrows and eyes that were pale and white.  Only the faintest ring and change in color marked the white from the iris of the eye.

More visions, he hesitated to call them memories, were flooding in.  The small nomads, his rescuers if he believed what his mind was telling him, carried long spears with glowing white blades.  He was certain he recalled one of the natives using one of the swords to kill and then cut into one of the Hoplani. 
What kind of blade could do that?
  He had never known a blade that could penetrate the magical hides of the creatures.  For that matter, how could they wander among the beasts with impunity and even control them to provide transport like an ordinary bison?

He was certain the nomads had transported them for a considerable distance.  His sense was they had spent many glass atop the lumbering Hoplani, although how much he could trust any of the visions he was uncertain.  He thought he could recall snatches of strange language, and being urged to eat.  He suspected he had been drugged with the food, probably to ensure he would sleep and his body given time to recover.  He looked around the oasis, which he could tell wasn’t very large.  He guessed it might be nearly a hundred large paces wide, and perhaps five times that long.  If the nomads had been here, they were now long gone.

Burke made a low sound in his throat and rolled onto his back.  Rigo rose to go check on him, and as he knelt over his companion, the eyes of the other slowly opened.  Rigo watched as they came into focus and realized who he was.

“Where are we?” Burke managed to utter, his eyes taking in the large tree behind Rigo.

“I don’t know,” Rigo told him truthfully.  “Still in the Ruins, but in some kind of oasis.  There is food and water, and almost as welcome, shade.” 

He reached out and took Burke’s arm and helped him sit up.  Once Burke was upright, Rigo passed him the waterskin. 

“Drink as much as you like.  We can easily refill it from the pond a dozen paces behind you.”

Burke looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the sight of open water flowing against the backdrop of the Ruins he could see beyond.

“Did you find this?  I remember you shouting something about seeing something you were going to investigate.”

Rigo shook his head.  “I didn’t.  I woke just like you to find us here.  Do you have any other memories?”

Burke thought for a moment.  “Some snatches of impossible events.  Small men herding Hoplani.  Hallucinations, I would guess.”

“I’m not so certain,” Rigo said.  “I have similar memories, and someone brought us here.  Someone filled the waterskins, and it looks that they fed us as well.  The food was not something any of us would have considered, so I suspect those visions are real.”

Tara started moving while they spoke.  Burke, who was closest, reached over and shook her.  A few moments passed before she opened her eyes, then she sat up suddenly, looking around her in amazement.  Burke passed her the waterskin, and she drank eagerly.

“How?” she asked after drinking her fill.

“Burke and I were just discussing that,” Rigo replied.  “I don’t know, but the evidence says we were saved by a small band of nomads that seem to be at home here in the Ruins.”

“I think I remember Hoplani,” she said slowly.  “But they were docile.”

“My memories indicate they use them much as we do bison,” Rigo agreed.

Tara looked around.  “It’s beautiful,” she said.  “Who would have thought it possible.  But it doesn’t extend very far.”

“It’s more than beautiful,” Rigo told them.  “Our magic works here.”

That caught their attention.

“You’re certain?” Burke asked.

“I made a
Bypass
a short time ago.  We can go home whenever we are ready.”

Tara grinned.  That was the best news Rigo could have given them.

For more than a glass they sat and recovered.  Surprisingly none were hungry, and despite Rigo’s belief the mush was edible, they would soon be home where they could have whatever they wished.  After they had sufficiently recovered, the effects of whatever the nomads had given them completely worn off, they stood and explored their small pocket of paradise.

It was as if the corrupting forces that had overwhelmed the land and formed the Ruins were slowly losing their grip upon the area.  Near the center of the little oasis, the Ruins had lost the battle completely and nature had reclaimed what was hers.  Near the edge, the battle was still being waged, with the corrupting forces slowly losing ground.  Farther out, the unwholesome magic that created the Ruins still reined supreme.  That was almost everywhere, but if there was one place normalcy was returning, might there not be others?

“Where do you think the water comes from?” Tara asked.

“I’m guessing there is an underground river, and by some miracle it breaks briefly through to the surface here.”  In fact, Rigo was correct.  A mighty lost river flowed under the full length of the Ruins.  It split several times, the forks extended east and west as the river flowed southward, deep in the darkness under the ruined land above.

Each of them experimented with magic briefly, eager to see that their ability had returned.  They walked back out into the Ruins itself, feeling the sudden oppression that came from the assault on the senses.  In all directions, in less than a dozen paces from the protection of the little island of green, their magic failed once again.  Rigo and Burke climbed to the top of the nearby rise and scanned the horizon.  They could see nothing similar to the little oasis in any direction as far as they could see.

“Where do you think they went?” Burke asked.  Then he added, “Do you think they are responsible for the Hoplani?”

Rigo shook his head.  “I have no idea, but my suspicion is they merely use them for their own needs.”

“We can’t go after them,” Burke said.  “For one thing, we don’t even know what direction to head, and we will soon find ourselves back in difficulty.  I don’t think the dead zone disappears as it did in the western part of the Ruins.”

Rigo had been having similar thoughts.  They would have to go back and explain what they had found.  This was too important for the news not to be shared.  Later, they could return here and look around more, but he suspected they would be limited to a day, perhaps a day and a half’s travel in any direction.  That was about the limit of the water one could carry, and they would have to return here to re-supply or perish. 

The two men walked back down the small hill toward the oasis where they could see Tara sitting with her feet in the stream.  They gathered up Rigo’s pack, filled it with the skins, and then Burke opened a
Bypass
to the Outpost. 

“How long have we been gone do you think?” Burke asked, as he prepared to step through the portal.

Seven days!  Rigo wouldn’t have believed it.  No wonder they had felt sluggish when they had awoke in the oasis.  There had been some kind of drug in their system, although whether it was given to them to aid their recovery, or whether it was to allow their benefactors to escape unseen, the direction of their travel masked as the three wizards slept in the safety of the small anomaly in the vastness of the Ruins, they could only guess at.

“We had given you all up for lost,” Februus explained. 

Rigo had told him of the unfortunate loss of Koess.

“Jeen had teams search all along this side of the canyon.  It extends as far as we have searched.  Nycoh warned that anyone crossing it would be stranded on the far side.”

“She is nearly right,” Rigo said.  “I don’t know how far we were taken to reach that small oasis where the effects of the Ruins are masked.  Our saviors must have known we would be able to get home from there.  Perhaps they feared our magic and that’s why they wanted us drugged when we recovered.”

“How would they know you were wizards?” Gagan asked.