Wielder's Rising

by T. B. Christensen

  “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 h
ad 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.

  “What’s happening?” the philosopher mumbled, disoriented in the dark with the screaming wind all around him.

  “It’s a sandstorm!” Traven yelled back. “Just stay still.”

  The two of them waited under their shelter, holding the blanket down as tightly as they could, trying not to let any sand in. The wind outside continued to howl as it rushed over them, blasting everything with sand. Traven wondered how long it would last. The blanket kept getting heavier and heavier as the storm deposited more and more sand on top of them. The stuffiness and darkness made it hard not to imagine that they would suffocate. He tried not to think about it. Instead he attempted to make out any sounds from their horses, but he could hear nothing above the screaming of the wind. He hoped that their mounts would be okay and that none of their gear would be lost.

  He was stunned by the suddenness and fierceness of the sandstorm. He had never seen anything like it. It went on and on as it swept over them. Just when he began to wonder if the storm would ever let up, it abruptly stopped. The silence seemed more acute than normal after the incessant howling of the wind. Traven pushed himself up on his hands and knees and heaved the sand covered blanket off of him. The brightness of the sun temporarily blinded him, and he blinked away the tears that sprouted in his eyes. He pulled the blanket the rest of the way off of the philosopher and helped him to his feet. They both drank in the fresh air as they surveyed their surroundings.

  Traven was relieved to find the horses in exactly the same position he had left them in with the blankets still covering them. He hurried to pull the sand covered blankets off of them and allow them to also breathe in the fresh air. The horses proceeded to shake the rest of the sand from their bodies as they snorted.

  “Well now,” Studell said as he stared to the east and brushed the sand off of his shirt and pants. “I felt like I was being buried alive. How exciting this trip is turning out to be!”

  Traven shook his head at the philosopher’s excitement. The man could have suffocated in the sandstorm moments ago and yet now he was as giddy as a little kid on his birthday. He joined Studell in watching the diminishing wall of sand speed away to the east. He hoped that they wouldn’t run into any other sandstorms. He anxiously checked their gear and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was all still securely tied to the horses.

  Deciding that it was still too hot to travel, Traven put their makeshift shelter back up, and they rested for a few more hours. When the sun began to get low on the horizon, they ate a small dinner, packed up their camp, and continued north. It was still warm but not as oppressively hot as it had been earlier. They talked of the sandstorm and the sand dunes that looked like the waves of the ocean as their horses plodded along in the soft sand.

  As the sun began to set, the heat began to fade more quickly. By the time night fully arrived, it was actually cool enough that Traven was grateful for the thick robe. The coolness soon turned to cold. He was taken aback by the dramatic change in temperature. He wondered how it could be so hot during the day and yet so cold at night.

  “It’s the dry air,” Studell explained. “There’s not enough moisture in the sand or the air to retain the heat from the sun. Once the sun has set, the heat rapidly rises back into the sky leaving it cold.”

  “I wish the temperature wouldn’t change so much,” Traven stated.

  “That’s how deserts are, extreme heat during the day and extreme cold at night. I expect it will get even colder before the night is over.”

  Traven hoped that the philosopher was wrong but knew that he was probably right. Luckily the dry, clear air also allowed the stars to shine brightly down on them. There was no moon, but the bright stars gave off plenty of light for him to lead them north across the now cold desert. Several hours later it had indeed gotten colder. Traven wrapped his robes as tight as he could, but still couldn’t keep from shivering. Looking back he saw that the philosopher was shaking even more than he was.

  He wished that there was wood or something else to burn. A warm fire would definitely be welcomed. It would be good to give the horses a break and to warm up a little. Traven scanned the barren landscape in vain for anything that would burn. However, he knew that it was hopeless to look. He hadn’t seen anything but sand since venturing into the dunes. As the cold continued to seep in, he wished he had thought to bring along some of the driftwood from the beach. He could easily create a flame with the ambience and start a raging fire like he had that morning.

  He suddenly had an interesting thought. He didn’t need wood to produce a flame with the ambience. He only needed wood to keep the flame burning. Or did he? Was it possible to keep the flame burning without wood? A fuzzy memory of flames floating in the air came back to him. Where had he seen that? He tried to remember but couldn’t. Perhaps it had been in a dream. Regardless, he decided that he might as well try.

  He focused on the air in front of him and concentrated on creating a flame. He then pulled it into existence. The small flame burst into life, shining brightly in stark contrast to the dark desert night. Pennon reared in surprise, and Traven almost fell off. The flame immediately winked back out, and Traven worked to calm his surprised mount.

  “What was that?” Studell questioned from behind. “Did you run into something?”

  “No, I just made a flame with the ambience and surprised Pennon,” Traven replied. He decided that if he was going to experiment, they should probably stop. “Let’s take a short break. I want to try something.”

  They both dismounted, and Traven walked a short distance away along the ridge of the dune. He knelt down in the starlight and thought about what he wanted to do. He obviously could make a flame appear easily, but could he keep it burning? He had never tried to hold the flame once he’d created it. He took a deep breath and attempted it. He pictured the flame and concentrated as the air thickened and swirled around it. He focused on keeping the flame in his mind’s eye as he pulled it into reality.

  The flame burst into life and continued burning in front of him at eye level. Traven smiled with excitement, and the flame began to sputter. He quickly regained his focus on the flame, and it burned brightly once again. He wondered if he could make it larger and proceeded to picture it growing. The fabric of the air spun faster around the flame and it slowly began to grow. It grew and grew u
ntil it was the size of his head. He focused on it, keeping it steady and bright. He smiled as he warmed his hands under it and felt the heat from it warming his face.

  However, his smile faded as he began to feel the strain on his body. He broke out in a sweat from the effort and started to feel sleepy. A dull throbbing also began in his head. He knew if he held onto the flame any longer it would only get worse, so he let the flame disappear. He took several deep breaths as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness that once again surrounded him.

  “That was amazing!” Studell exclaimed from behind him. “Do it again. I definitely wouldn’t mind warming my hands over a nice, hot flame.”

  Traven rubbed his temples trying to massage away the dull headache. He wondered how bad it would get if he tried to recreate the flame for Studell.

  “I’ll try to do it again,” he said. “But I probably won’t be able to hold it very long. Using the ambience in such a way drains me quickly.”

  Traven concentrated on a spot in front of Studell and pulled a large flame into reality. The philosopher jumped back with a surprised gasp but then grinned and stepped towards the bright flame. He only had a chance to rub his hands in front of it for a few seconds before it disappeared. Traven walked back over to the philosopher and the horses. He was breathing hard and the extra effort had caused him an even worse headache. He was grateful for the dark night and cool air that wouldn’t agitate his pain. He heaved himself up onto Pennon’s back.

  “We better keep moving,” he said quietly. “That took a lot out of me. I’d like to ride as far as we can before it gets too hot in the morning.”

  Studell agreed and thanked him for creating the flame. Their horses were soon once again plodding through the soft sand along the ridges of the dunes in a northward direction. As the night wore on, Traven’s headache slowly began to fade. When it was finally no more than a dull ache, he began searching the far horizon for the next marker along their journey, the Keeper’s Staff.