Beacon

by Kyle West

  “Isandru, if I could let you, I would…”

  “That just makes it worse,” he said. “You truly don’t know what an opportunity you have. And yet, you’d rather go off dancing in the trees!”

  “I don’t dance,” I said.

  “You know what I mean. You go around acting like you have some sort of higher purpose just because you’ve chosen to study prophecy.”

  “No, I don’t! Why are you talking like this?” Then, I realized. “I get it; you’re jealous I have to help Shal, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Isandru said. “You’re just young. You don’t understand what’s valuable and what’s not. Anytime I’ve told you about Hyperfold, about Aether, you don’t give it any credence. You’re letting that old codger shape your opinion before you even give it an honest look.”

  “Old codger? That’s the Elder Prophet you’re talking about!”

  A couple of people passed us at this point, which made me aware of just how loud I was talking.

  “Besides, like you know anything about it. Haven’t you noticed it changes people, Isandru? Haven’t you noticed Father is different ever since he started using it? And Mother?”

  Isaru shook his head, vehemently. “You just don’t get it, do you? Well, you’ll be getting your first taste tomorrow.” He smiled at this. “Then, you’ll see the truth of things.”

  “Well, you’re right about that,” I said. “The truth I arrive at might be different than what you expect.”

  “You’ll see that the Elder is wrong. There is nothing bad about Aether, Mia. It’s been tested. We’ve been using it for ten years. And nothing has happened!”

  I remained silent, knowing arguing with Isandru would do no good. I had to admit that it did do some good. Faded people could use their Gifts, and without it, most Prophets couldn’t even prophesy.

  Despite its uses, Marius never used Aether. He never openly criticized it to me, but I got the impression he didn’t like it. The Elder had never used Aether himself, or at least, so he claimed. However, pretty much everyone of age used it, at least on occasion, while a few were heavy users. Isandru was on the way to becoming a heavy user, defined as at least once a day.

  Maybe Isandru was right in that I didn’t know enough to form an opinion, and maybe Marius had shaped my view. And the fact I didn’t like Lord Shal only intensified my distrust of Aether.

  “I better go,” I said.

  “Think on what I said, Mia,” Isandru said. “I know I can be harsh at times, and brash…but I only say this because I want you to see the truth.” His eyes were serious, now. “I…well, forget it. I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

  I nodded, stiffly. I wanted nothing more than to be on my own.

  Isandru turned and continued to stare out the window, brooding.

  I walked the long corridors toward my chambers by rote, passing silver-robed servants with the Twin Dragons sewn on their breasts. They stopped, bowing or curtsying as I passed. I didn’t stop until I’d reached my rooms. With a light touch on their surface, the doors swung open of their own avail, revealing the entry hall inside.

  The doors gently shut, and despite that gentleness, the sound echoed through the cavernous space. The opulent hall, for all of its needless space and its ceiling of murals, still felt confined in comparison to the treetops of the Eastern Grove. I used to feel guilty about not being grateful for all the luxury of the palace until I realized that such opulence was needless. The towers of Hyperborea, which had once so awed me, now seemed more like trophies of excess. And with each generation, we strayed further and further yet from who we once were. Were we still the same children of the Red Wild as we were during Annara’s time on Earth? Something told me that the time of miracles was over. It was all about Aether and what could be done with it.

  The Xenofold was seen more as an annoyance than as a gift to be cherished. Some, like Shal, even saw it as an enemy.

  Yet, here I was still, in the Cloud Palace built by my great-grandfather. And the Palace had only grown wider and higher since his days by at least twice as much, if not more.

  I followed the main hallway until I found my bedroom. A set of wide marble steps led upward to a circular space surrounded by windows. It was one of my favorite places; surprisingly small and comfy, and it had a great view of the Northern Forest. The northern edge of Lake Makar wrapped around the northeastern perimeter of the city, while the smaller Lake Ashte flanked the city’s northwestern edge.

  The Northern Forest, beyond the cleared fields, was different from the others – not at all maintained by the Sages, it was allowed to grow free and wild. There was a boundless energy that could be sensed when one walked there, and its famous ichor springs were beautiful to behold. Even now mist could be seen collecting above the pink and silver canopy; mist almost always gathered in the evening over the Northern Forest, for reasons unknown, but it never ventured past the last trees, as if restrained by some unseen force.

  I went to my bed and lay down, feeling more troubled than I had in a long while. I knew little of Rakhim Shal’s personal story, but he had known my father since before I was born, and it was Shal who had found the way to prevent Fadings by inventing Aether.

  Aether was expensive, but Hyperborea was wealthy enough to subsidize it, so anyone who had need of it could use it. The rich, however, were the only ones who could get it in ample quantities.

  I had never had Aether myself, and despite what Isandru said, I never planned to try it. Tomorrow, however, I probably would have to try it.

  At the thought, I covered myself in my bed and closed my eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I OPENED MY EYES TO find the orange-tinted dawn streaking the eastern horizon. Isaru was still asleep, and even if I didn’t want to move, it was time to get going. We had a long day ahead of us, especially if we were going to continue walking into the night.

  I woke Isaru, ignoring the pain in my legs and feet. We had a quick breakfast and were on our way north within minutes, just as the sun crested some eastern hills.

  The mesa was soon left far behind as the dawn sky transitioned from light orange to bright blue. The sun climbed until the air sweltered under its infernal blaze. Heat rose off the cracked earth below. There was no shade for miles, and there was little water left in my canteen.

  I wrapped my cloak around my neck to keep it from getting burned, because already I could feel my skin cooking. During my short time in the Red Wild, I had grown used to its milder climate. I knew, because it felt so hot and this heat was nothing compared to what summer would be like. Granted, it was unseasonably warm for spring.

  The land sloped downward to meet a dry stream-bed. The only time it likely saw water was during the rare storm. We took a short break there, drinking measured gulps from our canteens. I could have drained the whole thing easily, but there was little knowing how much longer it would last, and I didn’t want to tap into our reserves until it was absolutely necessary. Isaru was right in that it would be wiser to start moving at night. The sun was already wearing me down, and it was far worse for Isaru, whose pale skin was reddening beyond belief. He hadn’t complained once about it, but he must have been in pain. To make things worse, the blue sky above was empty of any clouds or moisture.

  “I would give anything for rain right now,” I said.

  Isaru laughed bitterly. “It’s been months since this land has seen any rain. It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s been years.”

  “I can see why they call it the Exiled Lands. No one in their right mind would come here unless they were exiled for some reason. Are we headed the right direction at least?”

  “More or less.”

  Already, my lips were cracking, and my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. I ran my hand along the skin of my arm; unlike Isaru, I tanned easily, and I was no stranger to working hard under a cruel sun.

  Still, I had never worked quite this hard, even on the hardest days my mother and I had worked the fields.

 
; “We have to keep moving,” Isaru said. “This stream-bed is hotter than the surrounding terrain, and sitting here will just make things worse.”

  We stood and resumed going north, this time at a slower walk. Moving helped a bit, but it was still dreadfully hot.

  The landscape had changed little since yesterday. The ground was still cracked, and rising from its flat surface were cliffs, mesas, and dunes. The only plants were parched scrub and stands of prickly pear cactus, some of which grew fruit that Isaru and I stopped to pick whenever we came across them. Anything we could find in the wild was food we could save in our packs. Soon, we probably had a few pounds of the fruit between us from just a little bit of picking.

  As morning gave way to afternoon, the heat only intensified, to the point where it was as hot as any summer I could remember. I was too weary to even explain my dream to Isaru. We definitely couldn’t travel like this; night was the only option, or else we’d be cooked alive.

  “Do you see that?” Isaru asked.

  He pointed ahead, where on the horizon a pool of water shimmered. It was hard to tell if it was a mirage or if it existed in truth.

  “Most likely a mirage,” I said.

  As we continued forward, the mirage wavered and faded, disappearing beyond a distant rise.

  It seemed there was truly nothing here but rock, sand, and sun. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend I was anywhere but here, but that was difficult when each step sent stabs of pain up my leg, when my throat and tongue demanded more water which I denied, and when my lips were cracking to the point where moving them at all was painful.

  I reached for my canteen to drink the last of it. I gulped it down in just a few seconds.

  That’s all I get until evening.

  The sun, at least, was now descending in the west, but the day was as hot as it had been since noon. Perhaps even hotter. We continued trekking northeast, knowing that we had to hit the border of the Red Wild at some point, and with the Red Wild came the prospect of water.

  Somehow, we made it until evening. We stopped to eat and refill our canteens from our reserves, half of which was gone the moment the canteen was topped off. It was hard to imagine that this was just half our day. The last thing I wanted to do was continue on, but it was necessary if we were going to transition to nighttime travel.

  And, as good as our commitment, we continued walking after dinner, guiding ourselves by the stars rather than the sun. In the far distance, a glow could be discerned. The Red Wild was nearing.

  We headed toward the leftmost part of that glow, making it our goal for the night.

  It remained warm for several hours after sunset, but the half-filled moon and stars provided plenty of light, and approaching midnight, at least by my estimation, the air was actually cool and pleasant. There was far less need for water, and the land was clear enough that we could actually see a good way into the distance. There were few obstructions, but tripping over the odd rock was preferable to being in an oven.

  By early morning, however, my exhaustion was threatening to make me call a halt early. The glow of the Red Wild in the distance became brighter and larger, to the point where we could see the high wall of the Selvan forming a bold line. It had been teasing us all night, because it looked just over the horizon, only to have several more horizons in between.

  As the first light of dawn tinged the eastern sky, we began passing patches of xen clinging to the undersides of large boulders, and the pinkish glow on the horizon was far brighter and taller. The border was lost to view as we approached a high dune which, upon cresting, revealed the towering border of the Selvan not more than half a mile away. It seemed like a cliff more than a forest, and only after looking at it for a moment could I see the thick tangle of branches, trunks, and vines that had served as the impenetrable wall designed to keep the Covenant out.

  And flowing outward from the Wild, as I had hoped for in only my wildest dreams, was a thin stream that was probably more aptly described as a trickle.

  Isaru and I descended the dune and made our way across the final stretch, our pace markedly increasing. We paused at the edge of the rivulet, filling our empty canteens. I drank until I felt near to bursting, and then I refilled again.

  And now came the time for sleep. The stream made a small opening inside the Selvan, almost like a tunnel. We were forced to crawl inside to explore it, and once seeing it, we decided it would work perfectly.

  The tangle of plants was so thick that it was impossible to go more than a few feet in, and there was just enough space for Isaru and me to sleep along the stream and not get wet.

  Sometimes, mixed in with all the bad luck, you get a bit of good.

  * * *

  When I woke up, it was to the sight of the glowing plants of the tunnel. The desert outside was dark. There was no telling how long we had been asleep.

  Isaru woke then, apparently stirred by my movement. We ate quickly, just enough to fill our stomachs, before crawling out of the tunnel. I washed my hands and face in the cool stream, which was the most I could do; at its highest point, it barely covered my shins.

  We drank as much as we could before topping off our canteens and reserves. We had about three days' of water now, hopefully more than enough to come upon another source. If we stayed closed to the Red Wild, we might run across another stream similar to this. Then again, if there were people out here, they might be drawn to the Wild for the same reason. We would have to stay alert.

  We resumed our journey north, following the border of the Red Wild which rose on our right, lighting the surrounding desert with a mild glow. As the night wore on, the terrain roughened, transitioning from desert flatland to a landscape scarred by boulders, fissures, and forlorn peaks. We crossed a dry riverbed emerging from the Wild that likely hadn’t seen a drop in months. Always, to our right rose the towering Selvan, a constant barrier that wouldn’t end for several hundred miles.

  The night was quiet, and the land empty. It felt as if Isaru and I were truly alone.

  We camped that morning inside a shallow cave in a canyon which had once hosted a stream, now also dry. The stream we had come across last night seemed to be the exception rather than the rule; the Red Wild seemed to want to retain any water it found, and did not lightly give it up to the thirsty desert.

  A week passed in this manner; we traveled by night and slept by day. On the third day of that week, after being without water for twelve hours, we came across an even thinner stream that found its way from the Red Wild, a stream which was completely absorbed by the sand before it could make it ten feet out. Getting our water from that was maddening, and it took several hours before our canteens were full of the filmy water. Even so, my thirst made it seem like the purest water I had ever tasted.

  As our packs lightened we began to ration more severely. We began catching lizards and insects again, where we could find them, along with picking cactus fruit. We couldn’t get enough to fill our stomachs, but it would hopefully stretch our supplies long enough to reach the Red Wild. I always had an eye out for game, but aside from the occasional desert hare, there was nothing. The land was truly forsaken.

  Isaru estimated that we had followed the Selvan some hundred miles north at the end of our first week of following it. I didn’t know how he came to such an estimation, but we always pushed ourselves hard, and while the terrain could sometimes be rough, for the most part it was flat enough to traverse without a problem. When it was flat, our pace was staggering – on our best days, I wouldn’t have been surprised if we had done thirty miles. If we didn’t have to stop and gather food, we probably could have made it even further.

  Our stews at night consisted of the lizards we had caught, along with beans, nuts, some of the spices Rasi had given us, potatoes, and rice. There was no harmony in the ingredients, and if I were to eat such a concoction back at the Sanctum, I probably would have refused it. But every night, there was not a drop left, and I always felt as if I could eat more.

  I tr
ied not to pay attention to how my body was thinning. My arms had become more slender, and my bones were protruding more. Strangely, I was probably eating more food than I ever had in my life… but when you’re walking and climbing for up to twelve hours a night with a heavy pack, none of that matters. I suspected that if we had continued walking in the day, it would have been worse. Particularly, when we had gone without water for a long time, we would have surely died of thirst.

  Isaru and I rarely spoke unless it was necessary. Speaking was wasted energy.

  I was beginning to think the entire journey was going to be like this, until one night, we crested a dune to find something far from expected.

  * * *

  Below, around a stream as wide as the one we found our first night in the Exiled lands, three tents were clustered around a small fire. A man sat by that fire, apparently keeping watch.

  Isaru and I immediately ducked. There, below the dune, we waited for what seemed an eternity. There was no need to go in with our swords drawn. I had killed far too many men already, and I didn’t want to have to kill any more.

  Isaru was the first to make a move, and that was crawling backward in the direction from which we had come. He nodded toward the west, where the gibbous moon shone brightly. His idea was clear; we needed to strike out as far in that direction as we could and circumvent the camp. With luck, the stream would reach out that far and we could refill before moving on.

  Once low enough, we stood and walked along the edge of the dune. But then, appearing at the top of the dune, a figure appeared, silhouetted against the night sky. Isaru and I stopped immediately, but it was no good. He raised a sharp cry, one which would likely carry for a mile or more.