flowers as the name suggests, but after an eventless morning, the land slowly transforms into something more rugged, filled with weeds and thorn-covered plants of all kinds. The grassy stalks producing the Aspros flowers seem to be the only constant, capable of growing out of any patch of land, be it rough and rocky or fertile and green.
We make camp in another patch of trees when the night comes, which passes with little incident, though every sound I hear makes me feel like something is creeping up on us. Wade is able to once again fall asleep with little problem. I eventually dose off as well, waking up periodically but nodding off again in little time thanks to my exhaustion.
The next morning is much more pleasant, greeting us with a calm, warm breeze instead of the spectacle of a life-or-death struggle. I find it so peaceful that I want to enjoy it, but Wade ushers us on our way as soon as he deems it safe. I am completely spent by the time the evening comes and we find more trees, but Wade warns me that the worst is yet to come.
“Tomorrow, we will be taking a sharp turn north,” he whispers. “The land will be flat and lacking in foliage or cover. This will be the hardest part, two days of moving as fast as your body will let you. It’s going to make you hate me, but the only way we survive the final stretch is swiftness and luck.”
Our race north turns out to be everything he promises, making me grateful for all of the training I did to prepare for this. Still, Wade pushes me to my limits, but I don’t want to let him see any weakness in me. Even though I’ve always tried not to let things that people say bother me, I don’t take it well when someone questions my ability to handle myself like he did the day we met. Every mile I go without complaining, I feel like I’m proving myself to him as being something more than a frail princess who needs his protection.
On our second day, he tells me about the final obstacle standing between us and Sanctuary, a series of canyons referred to as the River Pyri. It’s not a river of water, but of flame, and consists of a number of tunnels and trenches, together constituting an elaborate network of streaming lava.
We are unable to reach it by the end of the day, nor are there any trees around to sleep in, so we are forced to seek shelter within a cave. We make some torches from what remains in my pack and journey down into it, finding a difficult to reach platform deep inside and making camp there for the night.
The makeup of the cave is much different from what I experienced beneath the mountains. Not only is it dry, but it is also quite warm, almost to an unbearable level. Wade attributes this to the several lava vents throughout the cave, a sign that we are getting very close to the canyons.
Not long into the next morning, we reach the first canyon. Even though it is devoid of vegetation, I find it stunning and beautiful. Two distinct kinds of rock make up the canyon walls and floor, a black sort that is produced by magma and a red sort that I’ve never before seen. The way they fuse together and combine with the orange and red glow of the mist high above us creates a vibrant aura of activity and life, one that I find much more exciting and energizing than the arid region we’d been traversing the last couple of days.
“This is where it gets tricky,” Wade says as we work our way down to a bridge of rock that crosses the canyon. “There’s no trail around the lava in some places, so there are narrow paths and crudely constructed causeways that will take us across it. They’re not the most reliable, so we need to be careful.”
“Where is Sanctuary, exactly?” I ask. “Is it hidden within the canyons?”
“No,” he answers, pointing toward a small plateau, one that reaches up into the distant mist a long ways away.
I had hardly noticed it before because of the rest of my surroundings, but as I take a closer look, I realize that it doesn’t seem much different from where Kalepo is, though it’s not as wide or tall. I can see the walls of the mountains north of Kalepo to our west, which stretch into the horizon. Compared to it, Sanctuary appears tiny, but its existence itself shocks me since I had always assumed that the mountains by Kalepo were the only ones anywhere around.
“It looks like the plateau where I come from,” I say.
“I wouldn’t go that far, not that I would know,” Wade replies. “The people of Sanctuary live inside the plateau, not on top of it. It doesn’t go above the mist, at least I don’t think it does. Otherwise, I’m sure there’d be people fighting over it instead of leaving it alone.”
Once again something he says produces a number of questions I want to ask, but this time I don’t quell my curiosity.
“Why would people fight over it?”
“Because these plains are filled with the worst kinds of people and creatures. It’s a lot harder to survive if you care about protecting the weak or doing the right sorts of things.”
“Then how does Sanctuary keep safe?”
“Two things, really. I think that preserving its existence helps the more wretched of people feel like they’re not as evil as they are. Then there are those who try to hold on to what goodness they have left by volunteering to keep Sanctuary safe. We’ll pass by their outposts before we get there. That’s the point at which we’ll really be out of the woods.”
I smile at the thought of no longer running away from something, not that being in a place like Sanctuary doesn’t itself seem like hiding. The break will be nice, regardless of what awaits me and the mysterious item I carry.
We spend the rest of the day travelling between narrow canyons and across or around great pits of lava. It seems surreal at first, so much so that I fail to appreciate just how easily I could slip and fall to my death. That changes the instant a wooden plank below me slips while I am crossing a long causeway.
“Kaela!” I hear as I hold to some loosely hanging boards.
Wade is immediately there to help me as I glance down at the rocks below me. Had I fallen, I would have landed on a steep slope leading into a river of lava.
“I’ve got you,” he reassures, swiftly pulling me up.
“You need to be careful,” I tell him. “You’re starting to sound like someone who cares.”
He gives me smirk, and we carry onward.
We do our best to seek a place to rest when the light above fades, though we try to push as far as we can into the night using torches and the glow of the lava below us. There are little fissures and caves all around, and we make camp once we find one that seems undisturbed and somewhat out of the way.
Several days come and go, all of them passing by very slowly. Our pace is careful and deliberate. The distant plateau on the horizon that is Sanctuary grows larger and larger each time I get high enough to see it above the tall canyon walls. It is little wonder to me why Sanctuary remains as safe as it does. The journey there is one any force would have a hard time making, especially if there are guards defending it.
Finally, we come around a bend and see the first outpost, a small stone tower built into the walls of a lava-filled canyon. As we get closer, Wade stops moving.
“Something isn’t right,” he says quietly. “I’m not seeing anyone. There should be guards patrolling ahead.”
My mind jumps to the item I carry and all of the uproar surrounding my arrival, making me afraid that if something is wrong, my presence here is somehow to blame. I step closer to Wade in hopes it will calm my nerves.
“Well, what do we do?” I ask.
“Keep going,” he replies, “but stay right by my side.”
We cautiously make our way across a bridge and down another causeway that leads by the tower. Even at the outpost’s entrance, there’s nothing we can hear except our own breathing and the crackling of lava below us.
For the first time, Wade removes the metal object in his belt. It is a peculiar weapon, not a blade at all but rather something else with a hollow end. I try to imagine darts or small arrows coming out of it, but there doesn’t seem to be a spring anywhere on it for the launching of projectiles.
“Here,” he offers, handing it to me. “Think of it like a crossbow. Simply po
int the end at anything that comes at you and pull the trigger back. It will shoot out a small metal object so fast that it will go right through whoever attacks you.”
“Strange,” I say as I palm it with both hands.
“Wait here,” he then instructs. “I’m going to check inside.”
I haven’t been alone since Wade found me, so my eyes shift around nervously in every direction. I back out into the open as far as possible and try to keep my view clear to anyone or anything that might come at me, focusing mostly on the pathway beyond the tower, which leads into another canyon.
A clattering noise suddenly echoes out of the tower, and I turn that direction, pointing the weapon in my hands anxiously at the entryway. To my relief, Wade emerges by himself.
“They’ve vanished,” he exclaims. “Like they were never here.”
The Outcast and the Survivor: Chapter Three Page 4