Wielder's Rising

by T. B. Christensen

  He wondered how close they would have to get to the tall rock formation to see it in the dark. He kept scanning the horizon hoping to see it soon. If they weren’t able to locate the formation, they wouldn’t be able to continue following the map to the ruins. About an hour later Traven noticed a thin, dark line rising up from the horizon. He couldn’t see it well enough to guarantee that it was the formation known as the Keeper’s Staff, but he changed their course slightly to the west so that they would be going directly toward it.

  He smiled with relief as the sky finally began to lighten ever so slightly, foretelling the coming of dawn. With the extra light he could tell that it was indeed a tall, crooked rock formation rising up out of the desert. Studell still couldn’t see it but trusted Traven’s declaration that they were indeed going in the correct direction. Within a short time, their surroundings began to change. The high sandy dunes began to get smaller and smaller, and rocks began to poke through every so often.

  Just before sunrise, the horses’ hooves left the soft sand of the dunes and began to clink against the solid rock of the changing landscape. It was still as barren and void of life as the sand dunes had been, but the flat landscape was interspersed with boulders and small rock formations. The single, most prominent formation of them all was a tall, narrow rock configuration that made its way crookedly up towards the sky. Even though it was still a ways into the rocky terrain, it was now clearly visible to the philosopher as well.

  “You’ve got good eyes,” he said to Traven as they continued riding towards it. “I would have to say that is definitely the Keeper’s Staff.”

  The sight gave hope to Traven that the map truly was accurate. He hoped more than anything that the spring on the far side of the Keeper’s Staff still existed and would be easy to find. They paused, as the sun was rising, to eat breakfast and refresh themselves. Then they made their last push towards the Keeper’s Staff. They wanted to get as far as they could before stopping to sleep during the hottest time of the day. The warmth of the sun was welcome after the chill of the night, but as they continued onwards and the temperature continued to rise, Traven was reminded of why they had decided it was best to travel at night.

  By midmorning the heat began to bother the philosopher, and they decided to stop and sleep. They were both exhausted from the lack of rest during the night. They set up a quick camp in the shadow of a tall boulder and collapsed onto their bedrolls. Despite the hard rockiness of the terrain, they were both soon fast asleep.

  6

  Traven woke up in the late afternoon feeling much better. His headache was completely gone and much of his weariness had been chased away by the sleep. He mostly just felt hungry and very thirsty. He took a sip of water and began munching on nuts and dried fruit. Beside him, the elderly philosopher continued snoring quietly. Traven was happy to see how well the philosopher had held up so far. What he lacked in physical stamina, he had made up for with his enthusiasm for adventure. Traven decided to let him sleep a little longer before waking him. It was still too hot to travel.

  He stood up and watered the thirsty horses. He watched with a grimace as they greedily lapped up the water he offered. He worried that the water might not even last them to the spring, if the spring even existed. He shook his head trying to erase the depressing thought from his mind. He had to believe it existed where the map said. If not, their journey would be over. He knew that if the spring wasn’t there, they might not even be able to make it back to the coast alive. He glanced at the crooked formation rising up out of the desert to the north. Hopefully they would reach it sometime during the night.

  He didn’t think Studell would wake up for awhile, so he reached into one of his saddlebags and pulled out the golden chest. He opened it and pulled out the two might stones. He had been meaning to study them again since he had discovered that he was a wielder. The stones’ magic no longer seemed as mysterious as they had the first time he had seen them. He took the two stones and sat back down in the shade of the small shelter.

  He set the orange one down and focused on the green stone. He turned it over several times in his hands. The light green might stone was interspersed with veins of yellow that were moving. He stared at it for awhile, mesmerized by the movement. It was so strange and different from anything he had ever seen. He wondered what special powers the stone possessed.

  It didn’t glow like his father’s might stone had, but it did feel like it gave off a small amount of heat. He closed his hand around it and shut his eyes. He could feel warmth emanating from it, and it made his hand tingle slightly. As he continued to hold it and concentrate, he felt a wave of energy wash over him. His eyes snapped open. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he had immediately felt refreshed and anxious to get moving. He looked at the stone and smiled. Perhaps he would have to hand the stone to the philosopher the next time he wanted to rest and see if it had the same effect on him.

  Traven set the green stone down beside him and picked up the other might stone. It was a deep orange that glowed slightly. He cupped it in his hands and put his eye up to it. It didn’t seem to give off any heat, but it definitely gave off light. He pulled it away from his eye and turned it over several times in his hands. He then closed his eyes and focused on it like he had the other. He didn’t notice anything different and reopened his eyes. He had no idea what powers the stone might possess.

  He picked the other one back up and got to his feet. He put them both back in the golden chest and returned the elaborate box to his saddlebag. Maybe when he learned more of how to use the ambience he would be able to study them better and figure out what they were for.

  Traven walked back to the small shelter and gently shook the philosopher awake. Studell blinked and swiveled his head from side to side, looking disoriented. After a moment his eyes lit up and a grin graced his face as he remembered where he was.

  “Is it time to continue on?” he asked. “How long before we reach the Keeper’s Staff? Let’s get moving.”

  “You probably want to eat something first,” Traven said with a smile. “If we start heading for the formation right after you finish eating, I think we should reach it sometime in the middle of the night.”

  Studell ate a quick meal and guzzled down some water. Traven wanted to advise him to go easy on the water but knew the elderly philosopher needed it. They put on their head wraps and took down the camp. Then they set off for the Keeper’s Staff. It wasn’t long before the late afternoon heat had them dripping with sweat. Traven was glad that the sun would be setting before too long. As much as he disliked the cold of the desert nights, the cold was easier to travel in than the heat of the day.

  As they got closer to the tall formation, signs of life began to appear. Dry looking scrub bushes could be seen here and there along their path. Traven also noticed a lizard or two scampering behind the bushes as they passed. By the time the sun set, he was feeling much more optimistic about the journey. This part of the desert was obviously not completely devoid of moisture. Hopefully the spring really was nearby.

  With the setting of the sun, darkness began to creep over the desert once again. As the temperature began to drop, Traven was happy to see that there were plenty of scrub bushes around them. It would be easy to get a small fire going to warm them up when they stopped for a break. The darkness eventually took over and thousands of stars began winking in the night.

  They continued in a straight line towards the tall rock formation mostly in silence. Something about the darkness and the immense dome of stars looking down on their small party made them content to keep their conversations to a minimum. As they got closer to the formation, it appeared to reach higher and higher into the heavens. Sometime around the middle of the night, they reached its base.

  Despite how thin it had appeared from far away, the base of the Keeper’s Staff was actually incredibly wide. It looked as if it was at least fifty arm spans across. Studell commented on how small he felt with it rising above them, bl
otting out a large swath of stars. Traven agreed with him and went to collect enough of the scrub bushes to get a warm firing going. When he had gathered plenty, he put several together and lit them with the ambience. They burst into flames, burning much faster than he had anticipated. He gathered a few more bushes and sat down next to Studell to warm himself by the fire.

  The heat of the fire was welcome and quickly dispelled the chill from the night. Traven and Studell munched on some of their food and took several sips from the last full water skin.

  “I hope this spring of yours is close,” Traven said. “If we are careful we might be able to make this water last through another day.”

  “It will be there,” Studell replied. “Everything else has been right where the map said it would be.”

  Traven didn’t have a problem trusting the map. After what they had seen so far, he believed that the map was accurate as far as how things used to be. However, just because a spring existed in ancient times when the map was made didn’t mean that it still existed. He tossed the last of the dry bushes into the fire and tried to relax.

  The crackling of the fire was distracting and reminded him of his journey to Calyn with Blaize. How many fires had he shared with the grizzled warrior on their journey to the capitol of Kalia? He missed the talks they had shared and the stories Blaize had told. He supposed that now he would have some stories of his own to share with Blaize once they met up again. Hopefully they really would find some interesting treasures amongst the ancient ruins. Then he would have even more to talk about when he eventually met back up with the army.

  As the fire began to die down, they remounted their horses and made their way around the base of the Keeper’s Staff. They continued north towards where the spring should be. Traven kept a sharp lookout for the spring, but after a couple of hours they still hadn’t found it. To the east he could see the outlines of the mountains known as the ‘Twin Guards’ that would lead them on their way to the ruins of Faldor’s Keep.

  The spring should be somewhere close, but he couldn’t see any sign of it. After another long stretch of night without seeing it, he began to get really worried. The horses had needed a lot of water thus far. He knew that realistically their meager supply wouldn’t last another full day. His lips were cracked and his throat was dry. If they didn’t find water soon, they would all eventually die. Traven tried not to panic as he continued to scan their surroundings for any sign of the spring. He was afraid that he might miss it in the dark and wondered if it would be wiser to wait until the morning to look for it. He once again wondered if it even existed anymore.

  Perhaps it would be wise to suggest that they should turn back. As he considered how best to explain his thoughts to the philosopher, he noticed something different on the horizon. He strained to see what it was but couldn’t tell. As they got closer, he realized that the shapes were trees. His heart leapt at the sight. If there were trees, there was water. He happily pointed them out to the philosopher. Despite the man’s assurances earlier, Traven noticed a visible relief wash over him upon hearing the news. It was not long before Traven could clearly make out the small oasis.

  There were seven trees and a spattering of bushes clumped in a small, tight circle. The trees looked like none he had ever seen. The trunks were tall and skinny. The numerous green branches at the very top of the trunks fanned out in all directions and drooped slightly.

  As they rode closer, Traven searched for the spring. As hard as he looked, he couldn’t make out any sign of water. He hoped it was just hiding behind some of the bushes, but once they arrived at the small cluster of trees, his hopes were crushed.

  They dismounted and searched the small concentration of foliage but found nothing other than dirt. They searched the entire area several more times but to no avail. Traven noticed a distinct change in the philosopher’s countenance as they continued looking. The man’s shoulders slumped and the enthusiasm with which he had faced previous obstacles was completely gone.

  “I’ve doomed us,” Studell said sadly as he collapsed to the ground at the base of one of the strange trees. “My foolishness has led us to our deaths. I let my excitement get in the way of my reason. I knew that springs come and go. Some springs last for years and then suddenly disappear. I should have planned for the possibility. I should have . . .”

  Traven shut out Studell’s ramblings as the philosopher continued to lament about his foolishness. It wasn’t the elderly man’s fault. Traven had known the risk before they had begun traveling across the desert. He cleared his mind and tried to focus on what needed to happen next. Their water supply would run out the next day. Perhaps they could make it back to the beach if they turned around immediately. They would have to ration the remaining water and only travel during the night. They would have to leave any unnecessary supplies so as not to burden their mounts anymore than was necessary.

  Even as he began planning for the return trip, he knew that they probably couldn’t make it back across the desert. There just wasn’t enough water left. He might be able to survive without water for a day or two, but he knew that the elderly philosopher could never make it. Their other option was to continue following the map, hoping that they found water somewhere else. But where would they find water in the middle of a desolate desert? Perhaps there was a water source near the ruins of the keep, but that was still a couple days away as well.

  For all he knew there might not be water anywhere in this blasted desert. However, he knew it wasn’t true. He had seen signs of life and these trees and bushes had to have water to survive. Their leaves were lush and green. There was water somewhere. He paused as the answer hit him. It was just below the ground! Traven hurried to the pack horse and pulled out the small shovel that the philosopher had brought. He looked around and chose a spot in the center of the clump of trees. He took the shovel to the small clearing and after taking a deep breath, began to dig.

  He was thankful for the cold night air as he began to sweat with the effort of digging. He removed his robe and continued to methodically thrust in his shovel and create an ever growing hole in the sandy dirt. His muscles eventually grew tired from the effort and screamed for him to take a break. He stopped to rest but resisted the urge to drink any water. Studell had come over to see what he was doing and reached down into the hole.

  “The dirt does seem a little damp,” he said dejectedly. “But there is no water. You could dig for hours and not reach the source. We’re doomed. How foolish I am! What was I thinking? Ohhh.”

  Traven watched as the distressed philosopher made his way back to the tree and collapsed. He dropped the shovel and hurried over to the elderly man. Luckily, he was just sleeping. The strain of their journey and current predicament must have finally been too much for him. Traven balled up his robe and put it under the philosopher’s head, trying to make the elderly man more comfortable.

  He then returned to the hole and continued digging. It was now obvious to him that the philosopher wouldn’t be able to make it back to the beach unless they found water. He made the hole wider and deeper, but there was still no water. His muscles again screamed for him to stop and his parched throat called for water. He took a small sip to wet his throat and collapsed at the side of the hole.

  He knew that he couldn’t keep digging much longer. He had already exhausted himself to the point where he could barely lift the dirt out of the hole. They had plenty of food left, but what he needed was more water to keep going. He stared at the hole with frustration. What more could he do? The philosopher had been right. There was no way he would be able to dig deep enough. The dirt was definitely moist at the bottom of the hole, but that was all.

  Traven put his face in his hands in exasperation. There had to be some way to get to the water. If only he could make the hole bigger and deeper with his mind like he had done the night before with the flame. He paused as the thought took hold. Maybe he could. He let his hands fall back to the ground and took a deep breath.

  He
stared at the hole, trying to picture it bigger and deeper, but nothing happened. He blinked several times and concentrated harder. The air started to thicken and time slowed, but still nothing happened to the hole. As hard as he struggled, his efforts were in vain. No change occurred. He closed his eyes in frustration. Why couldn’t he enlarge the hole like he had the flame? He tried to block out the pain of his sore muscles and cracked lips as he searched his mind for an answer.

  In his focused state, the faint memory of a lightning bolt flitted at the edge of his memory. Had he really created one? If he could make a bolt of lightning again, perhaps he could blast the hole deeper. He decided that it was worth a try and opened his eyes. His strength was nearly gone, and he couldn’t think of any other options.

  He looked up pleadingly and reached towards the night sky. He concentrated and slowly began to form a lightning bolt. He began shaking with the effort, but continued forming it in his mind’s eye. After struggling for several long moments, he managed to direct a sizable bolt of lightning down from the clear sky and directly into the center of the hole. He expelled an exhausted breath as he focused on the imagined bolt. It was there, just beyond sight. Without stopping to think further, he used the last of his strength and yanked it into existence.

  The extreme force that accompanied the blinding flash of light knocked him backwards through the air and into a tree. He slid to the ground and lost consciousness as a deafening boom washed over him.

  * * * * *

  Studell bolted upright with a ringing in his ears. The horses were neighing and rearing in panic to his right. He shook his head trying to stop the ringing in his ears. What had happened?

  In the dark he could just make out the form of Traven sleeping a little ways to his left at the base of one of the palm trees. Whatever had made the sound had not disturbed the young man. He must have been exhausted. Studell remembered watching the young man digging before he himself had fallen asleep. Traven must have finally given up and decided to sleep as well.