Wielder's Rising (6 page)

They made good progress throughout the day as they followed the coast.  Studell appeared to be deep in thought, so Traven let himself fall into somewhat of a trance as the horses plodded along and the water lapped against the shore.  The day passed slowly as they continued down the thin strip of beach.  It became wider, then smaller, then wider again.  The cliffs marched on with their majestic height, leaving no breaks to reveal the dry desert beyond them.  The only sounds to be heard were the waves and the birds.  It was peaceful but monotonous.

As the sun set and the sky slowly began to darken, Traven instinctively began looking for a spot to set up camp.  He decided that it really didn’t matter where they stopped for the night and chose the next stretch where the beach widened.  He would feel best sleeping as far from the water as possible.  As he pulled up, Studell’s mount automatically stopped alongside Pennon.

“I think it’s time to make camp,” Traven said.

“At last,” Studell mumbled with a grateful sigh.  The elderly philosopher carefully slid off his horse, grateful to be done riding for the day.

Traven hopped off of Pennon with a smile and walked a little further up the beach to gather some driftwood for a fire.  Glancing back at the philosopher gingerly walking, he was reminded of his first full day of traveling in a saddle.  After gathering sufficient driftwood to last the night, he returned to the small camp that Studell was slowly setting up.  Traven helped unload the horses and get everything ready for the night.  After a quick dinner, he built a small fire as the philosopher nodded off to sleep.  He lit it with the ambience and smiled at how easy it would be to light a fire from now on.

He laid out his bedroll and stared out over the ocean.  He hoped that the philosopher would be able to hold up okay on the rest of the journey.  The half day’s ride today had been almost too much for the aged man.  Traven laid down to think but was soon fast asleep as the waves continued their rhythmic lapping along the shore.

Traven arose early and practiced his sword forms, thankful to be doing them on solid ground.  However, the sand of the beach caused a certain amount of resistance to his routine which left him more winded than usual.  As the sun broke the horizon and shone over the water, he made his way back to the small camp.  Studell was still fast asleep, so Traven added the last pieces of driftwood to the glowing embers of the fire.  He sat quietly, staring as the new pieces caught fire and began to burn.

As the flames grew bigger and bigger, he wondered how large of a flame he could make using the ambience.  He had only tried making a small flame up until now.  He was nervous to try something new but also excited.  He stood up and walked over to a piece of driftwood that had landed on shore near their camp overnight.

Traven cleared his mind and focused on the wet piece of wood.  He envisioned in his mind’s eye a flame about twice the size of the ones he had created in the past.  The air seemed to thicken and swirl around the large piece of wood.  He could feel the flame just beyond sight and was about to pull it into existence but stopped.  It seemed as easy to form the larger flame as it had been to form the smaller ones.  He decided he might as well increase the size of the flame some more.  He allowed his mind’s eye to let the flame grow larger and larger until it enveloped the entire piece of wood.  The substance of the air began to swirl faster and faster around the imagined flame.  He concentrated and pulled the flame into existence.

Traven stumbled backwards with a yelp of surprise as the entire piece of wood burst into flame with a loud whoosh.  He hadn’t expected it to happen so suddenly.  He plopped down on the sand feeling too exhausted to walk back up the beach to the camp and stared at the roaring flames at the water’s edge.  The bright, flickering light hurt his head and he closed his eyes.  He wasn’t sure whether to be excited by his success or disappointed in himself for causing a headache so early in the morning.  He kept his eyes closed and laid back on the sand to rest for a moment, hoping the pain in his head would dissipate.

“Did you sleep down here all night?” Studell asked as he trudged down the beach towards Traven.

“No,” he replied with his eyes still closed.  “I’m just resting.”

“Resting! Resting! You had all night to rest,” the philosopher exclaimed.  “We need to get moving.  There’s a lost keep to find!”

Traven pushed himself up with a groan and followed Studell back to the camp.  Obviously the philosopher felt refreshed from his good night’s sleep.  After eating breakfast, Traven felt a little better.  His headache was only minor, but he still felt as if he had been practicing his forms all day.  He was reminded of how much it had drained him the first time he had lit a candle with the ambience.  He would need to be more cautious when experimenting.

“Hopefully we’ll reach the break in the cliffs by midmorning,” Studell announced when they started along the beach to the west.

As they made their way, boulders jutting out of the ocean along the beach became more numerous.  The soft lapping of the waves turned into loud crashes as they slapped against all of the rocks.  The boulders continued to grow larger as the morning progressed.  Traven could see why the starting point of the map had been further to the east.  There was no way a ship could navigate these waters without hitting the rocks.  As midmorning neared, he began eagerly watching the cliffs for a sign of the fissure that would allow them passage into the interior of the land.  The beach became rockier and the cliffs appeared to diminish slightly in size.  Just after midmorning he spotted the break in the cliffs.

5

Traven watched at first with eagerness and then with disappointment as they drew closer to the break.  It was a large gash in the previously unbroken cliffs.  Instead of a sheer wall, it appeared that part of the cliff had fractured and collapsed.  The resulting rock slide extended all the way from the top of the cliffs to the beach at its base.   He had hoped that there would be an easy path through the fissure and into the desert beyond.  However, the path before them looked anything but easy.  It appeared steep and treacherous.  He pointed out the spot to Studell who squinted into the distance trying to pick out the break in the cliffs.  When the philosopher was finally close enough to see it, he too grew concerned.

“How are we supposed to get up that?” he inquired.

Traven shrugged in response.  He wasn’t sure.  They continued riding towards the fissure.  As far as he knew this would be their only chance of climbing through the cliffs and continuing further inland.  He hoped that their journey wouldn’t be cut short so soon.

When they finally arrived at the break, Traven pulled up on Pennon’s reins and studied the ascent more closely.  The path along the fissure and up to the top of the cliffs looked difficult but not as bad as he had at first feared.  The base of the narrow break in the cliffs was covered with sand and medium sized rocks that continued all the way up to the top of the cliffs.  The ascent would be fairly steep, but as long as the rocks were solid, there should be enough footing for the horses to make it up.  He suggested that they eat their lunch and give the horses a rest before attempting the climb.

“I agree,” replied Studell.  “We want the horses rested.  I’m still not even sure we will be able to make it to the top.”

“The horses can make it,” Traven assured him.  “We just need to take it slow and be careful.”

After eating lunch and watching the waves crash against the rocks jutting up out of the ocean, they decided it was time to make the ascent.  Traven led the way.  Pennon was surefooted and was able to pick out a safe path for Studell’s mount and the packhorse to follow.  Traven kept his eyes on the rocky rise before him.  Not because his mount needed any help picking out a safe path, but because he didn’t want to think about how high they were getting.  They paused about halfway up to give the horses another rest.

Traven glanced downwards toward the shore.  A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he turned away to look at their path once again.  He tried to get the image of the steep drop out of his mind.  He reminded himself that the horses hadn’t had any trouble so far and would be fine, but he knew he wouldn’t feel completely comfortable until they reached the top.  When the horses were ready, they continued on.  There were a few instances where one of the horses stumbled slightly, but all were able to quickly regain their footing.  As they neared the top of the cliffs, Traven let out a sigh of relief and loosened his white-knuckled grip on Pennon’s reins.  With one last heave, his mount crested the top of the cliffs.

Traven stared in awe as Studell’s mount and the packhorse climbed up next to Pennon.  As far as the eye could see there was nothing but waves of fine sand, rising and falling in giant swells.  No wonder it was called the ‘Dune Sea’ on the map.  He shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun off the endless desert that stretched before him.  He could also see why it was referred to as the ‘shimmering hills’.  The air seemed to waver slightly, causing the sand to look like it was shining in the bright sun.  A hot blast of dry wind and sand blew against them as they stood staring.  He turned away from the desert, rubbing his eyes as Studell began coughing.

“Isn’t that something,” Studell said in between coughs.  Traven agreed.  The desert had a stark beauty to it, but the heat coming off of it was not welcome.

“It’s amazing how hot and dry it is up here with the ocean so close,” Traven observed.

“It is quite different from being down on the beach,” Studell replied.  “My mouth is dry just looking at that endless stretch of barren wasteland.”

Traven agreed.  He looked out over the ocean, being careful not to get too close to the edge of the cliffs.  He wished he could still feel its cool breeze.  He turned away from the sea and studied their new path.  As uncomfortable as he had felt trapped between the cliffs and the ocean, he would take the narrow beach any day over venturing out into the desert that stretched before him.  Studell suggested that they change into their desert gear before heading inland.  They donned their robes and head wraps and gave the horses some water.

Traven watched with concern as the horses lapped up the precious liquid.  He knew the horses needed it as much as he and Studell did but was worried that there wouldn’t be enough for all of them.  Staring out over the endless hills of sand, he hoped that the map was correct and there truly was a spring halfway to the ruins of the keep.  If not, they would have no chance of making it to the ancient keep and back alive.  When the horses were finished, the two men remounted and set off into the desert.

The rocky ground at the edge of the cliffs soon gave way to the fine desert sand of the dune sea.  Traven led them along the tops of the soaring dunes making his way due north.  After only an hour of plodding along into the desert, he wondered if they were making a huge mistake.  The heat rose in shimmering waves around them as their mounts trudged forward.  He was dripping with sweat and wanted to take his robe off for relief but knew that although the robes kept his body heat in, they also protected him from the blazing sun.

Traven glanced back at Studell often and could tell that the elderly man was faring even worse than he was.  After another hour of monotonous plodding through the shimmering sand under the sweltering sun, he decided that it would be best if they stopped to rest.  The philosopher had almost fallen out of his saddle several times, and Traven was worried that if they continued on any longer the philosopher might pass out.

“Let’s stop here and take a rest,” Traven said.  “We’ll set up a little shelter and wait out the hottest part of the day.”

Studell nodded in agreement and slipped down off of his horse.  Traven hurried to set up a small shelter to block out the blazing sun.  He then helped Studell out of his robes and under the lean-to.  The philosopher was flushed and obviously struggling in the heat.  Traven offered him some water and suggested that they try to sleep a little and then continue on once it wasn’t as hot.  Studell agreed and was soon asleep.

Traven glanced out from their shelter at the shimmering air that appeared to be rising off of the sand.  In all directions he saw nothing but sand and more sand.  At first he had thought the shimmering distortion in the air was water in the distance, but after traveling so long without seeing any sign of it, he had realized that it was nothing more than an illusion created by the rising heat.

He and the philosopher had greatly underestimated how hot and dry the desert would be.  It had been unwise to set out across it in the middle of the day.  He was tempted to suggest heading back to the coast but knew that the philosopher was set on finding the ruins.  Traven had to admit that he also wouldn’t give up on their task so easily.  He decided that their best chance would be to sleep during the hottest part of the day and travel as much as they could at night.  That would allow them to conserve their small supply of water and prevent the philosopher from passing out from the heat.

Traven laid down to join the philosopher in sleep, but just as he started to nod off the horses began to get agitated.  He thought nothing much of it and tried to rest.  However, when they started to neigh loudly and dance around in place he began to wonder what was bothering them so much.  He looked out of the small shelter to see what the problem was and found them staring to the west with wild eyes.  He followed their gaze and gasped.

There was an incredibly tall roiling wall of dark brown racing towards them.  At first he had no idea of what he was seeing but suddenly realized that it was a giant wall of sand.  Soon the sun was blotted out.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  There was no way they could outrun it.  He knew that whatever he needed to do, he must do it fast.  He instinctively threw blankets over the horses to protect them from the sand.  He then threw himself under the lean-to and pulled it down on top of the philosopher and him just as the wall of sand slammed into their impromptu camp.