by Dan O'Brien
I wished I could be there to see that.
It seemed as if the Fates had spoken.
“Son of the Fallen, your heritage extends beyond what you may ever come to know. Know that your father loved you with all of his cold heart. Your only responsibility shall be to take care of your mother and to grow into a man worthy of the Armen name.”
His grip on my fingers was like a small vise.
I was compelled to look back at my child.
I wished that I could give E’Malkai what he deserved. I reached down and removed his hands from my fingers. He stared at me. Leaning into his crib, I kissed his forehead as I had done to Leane. I looked at him once more before moving toward the door. A glint of steel caught my eye. The shadow of the receding night was still evident; the orange of the morning sun crested to the east. I saw my planedge and hesitated for a moment, missing the weight at my side.
I turned away, though not before looking back upon the home.
Ryan’s presence in the middle of the street was unexpected. “Dean said that many men have traveled south in search of what we seek. They say you travel south until you reach the unsettled oceans and then follow the peninsula until it reaches the white hot sands of the Desert of the Forgotten.” He turned now, his eyes haggard. Deep purple circles traced them. Sleep had not come to him in days. “They say that is where the Shaman stands alone.”
“That is where we must go,” I replied. Tightening the sash around my waist, I moved toward my brother.
“I will not lie to you, Seth. I want this power for revenge.”
“I would not have expected anything else.” I felt a wave of uncertainty engulfed me. “I have been told I was a guide to the power. They did not say whether or not I wielded this power.”
“All that I ask is that you make them pay. Do that and I will ask for no more,” he replied.
“We have a journey ahead of us. We must make haste.”
Ryan nodded solemnly and moved off toward the entrance. The Series 4500 stood out like some great creature. “Are we taking this?” I asked, pointing at the transport.
He shook his head, pointing farther into the distance. “Dean has instructed us to grab two mounts. He does not expect them to return.”
I nodded. “That was generous of him.”
“He said that he does it because we are family,” replied Ryan hollowly.
I sidestepped his pessimism. “Did he tell you what to expect once we found our way there?”
Ryan shook his head as we passed beneath the wooden arches of the stable. The doors had already been thrown open and the horses moved about in their pens. He pointed to one of the pens as he continued on and I stopped, regarding a black steed with a bemused glance. The first glimpse I had of the magnificent creatures seemed like such a long time ago…a lifetime ago.
The thought made me smile.
Reins dangled from the steed’s head. As I pulled the gate open, he looked at me with a simple stare. Not wavering or stamping as some would, he regarded me carefully as I had regarded him. He allowed himself to be pulled free of the pen and I stood there absently. For a moment, I felt much younger than my brother. Watching as he placed a saddle on the back of his tan mare, taking care to center it on the dark brown blanket that he laid down first. Her flowing white mane was pronounced as she flicked her head back. He tied the saddle in snugly and looked back at me/
I thought I saw a smile cross his face. “Something the matter, Seth?” he queried.
“It occurs to me that I have no idea what I am doing.”
Ryan sighed, tying his reins to the wooden beam next to the gate. He walked into the open pen and disappeared for a moment. After a few seconds, he emerged with a saddle and a blanket, which dangled close to the ground. “Grab this,” he growled, trying as best he could to hand me the blanket.
I reached down instantly. Snatching the shadowed blanket from his grasp, I held it until he gestured with his head to place it across the broad back of the steed. I did so awkwardly. Maintaining my grip upon the reins, I tossed the blanket haphazardly and smoothed it out with one hand. In the end, it still remained crooked as Ryan placed the saddle with a heavy sigh. Reaching below without another word, he adjusted the saddle straps. He pulled on them vigorously, the steed stomping slightly as he did so.
“Thank you.”
Upon hearing those words, Ryan’s scowl deepened. He nodded and moved back toward his mare. Grabbing on the horn of his saddle, he pulled himself up in one smooth motion. He reached out over the mare’s neck and grabbed the reins, holding them in his left hand. Gripping the horn in his right hand, he turned the mare, his feet touching her flank lightly.
“Light is upon us now, brother.” He hesitated with the last word, as if it were difficult for him to say. Lowering his head, emotion crept into his features. My brother turned, moving his mare past me as I struggled onto the back of the steed. He remained indifferent as my trial and error proved successful. I rounded the side of the stable awkwardly. Slowing gaining control, I could not be sure what part was the skill of the horse and what part was my skill as a rider. As we moved past the gates, the wall guard looked down and nodded. The gates opened, slowly exposing the terrain from which I had just returned.
Together, we moved out to what would hopefully be our destiny.
THE WINDS HOWLED across our bodies. We had been traveling for days and the green-patched hills that I had slowly become accustomed to had long since vanished. We passed them and entered a winding maze of rocky cliffs. On the fourth day, we set the horses free. Taking what we needed from the packs, we carried only what was humanly possible as we made the last leg of the trek of foot. It took no longer than a few hours from the edge of the rocky cliffs to find a lookout point where we could see down into the agitated seas. The foamy mouth of a recess dipped low into the darkness of an ocean without light.
The sun rose and set twice before we made camp.
There was only one path through the rocks. As I walked out ahead of my brother, it felt as if we were on the tundra once more. I felt empty without a blade at my side. I stopped and looked back at Ryan. Long hair fell over his face as he crawled through the rocks. There was no light here and the rain seemed to be a part of the landscape. Dark bruised skies stretched far out into the horizon.
I looked back out ahead of us and I saw a recess just ahead of us, a shelter of sorts. I moved toward it as gracefully and with as much haste as I could muster; I did not wish to slide to my death, drowning in the oceans below us. I ducked underneath the roof of the cavern and leaned back against the wall. The entirety of the enclosure could fit no more than two men.
I saw my brother’s shadow at the mouth the rocks and I called out. “Ryan.” My voice was hoarse from not speaking for so long.
He was as stern and somber as ever. Nodding, he ducked beneath the overhang and sat down beside me, rubbing his hands together. His hair was soaked and twisted into gnarled tendrils that had matted against his skull. “Will this storm never end?” he croaked exasperatedly. Digging into his pockets, he pulled free the browned jerky at which we had been slowly nibbling away.
“It appears that it will not.”
“Want some?” he replied. He was already gnawing on a strip of the dried meat.
I looked at the jerky and nodded hungrily. Pulling a thick strand free, I shoved it in my mouth. My mouth was so dry that it turned the jerky into a flat strip of meat that stuck to the inside of my cheek. I reached my hand into my mouth and pulled the jerky free; then, I bit off a much smaller piece now that the meat was moist.
“Where is this Shaman?” he asked.
I swallowed the piece with a hard gulp and pulled the tin cup from my side. Reaching my hand outside the cave, the ping of the rain hitting the bottom soon faded as it filled slowly. My brother followed my lead, his cup far nicer than my own.
“We have been walking now for the better part of a week, maybe more,” I reasoned, pulling the cup in again and drinking it
quickly. Placing my hand outside, I rested the cup on an outcropping to give the muscles of my arms a rest. “The peninsula curves into this desert. We are moving alongside the ocean, but I don’t see a change in the landscape for a day or more at least.”
“What if….” he started and then stopped.
I pulled my cup back in. Sitting back with a sigh, I pulled out a packet of honey that I had hid away since we left the Fallen. I squeezed out no more than a drop; I welcomed the sweet smell.
Ryan looked at me with weary eyes. “What if there is nothing there? What if it is all just ghost stories and lore?”
“Our grandfather made this journey and returned a changed man.”
He did not seem convinced.
I looked back out toward the ocean. The rain had picked up. It was no longer a translucent sheet; instead, it had become an unrelenting wall of water that poured down from the heavens.
“Should we camp here for the night?” Ryan watched the rain intently.
I did not want to stop so soon, but I nodded nonetheless.
Ryan snickered and pulled his pack from around his side. Procuring a flint from inside, he gathered veins of branches that were littered in the small space and piled them neatly. He struck his flint and stone in quick bursts, miniscule sparks falling on the piled tinder; eventually, a flame emerged. I lay back and watched as Ryan maneuvered the fire until it was self-sustaining, swaying gently in the wind. We talked about past until the fire dwindled and we were both wrapped in the layers of coats we had brought along.
We pulled them tightly against our forms as the shadow fell upon us.
HOURS HAD PASSED before I awoke. I rubbed my eyes and pushed away the coats, making more noise than I would have had we been on tundra. The warm weather made me lazy. I looked over at Ryan; his eyes were still closed and his mouth moved slightly. The rise and fall of his chest suggested sleep.
The rain had slowed. A downpour had been reduced to a thin scattered sheet that had followed us upon breaking onto the cliffs. Walking out into the rain, I tried to focus my eyes as the rain trailed down my face once more. My clothing was still damp, but much drier than they had been during the trek. I almost expected something to be following us, but I had not spied tracks of any kind––animal or otherwise.
I reached back into the cave and grabbed my coat. The clouds had moved toward the sea and rebounded, doubling in size and strength. I reached down and tried to wake Ryan gently. When he did not wake immediately, I pushed harder.
“What?” he whispered sleepily.
“We have to move.”
He seemed disoriented. “What’s going on?”
“The storm has circled. There is no time to explain, gather your things. We must be on our way,” I spoke quickly.
Ryan nodded and struggled to his feet. His movements were labored as he pulled his coat over his back and pulled it around his shoulders. He strapped the loose ends of the pack along his chest. I moved out ahead almost immediately, the urgency far more evident to me. My brother trudged along behind me for some time. The storm returned with renewed force. There was no cave this time when it tore into us. We both slowed and made certain of our footing along the slick cliffs.
On the dawn of the twenty-third day of our journey, we reached out destination. The jagged line of the pale sand was breathtaking and sudden. We moved from a torrential rainstorm to a sweltering sunny day in an instant. I slowed and stopped as I reached the edge. My brother fell to his knees. Dropping his pack, he sighed deeply.
“By the Believer,” he began in awe.
I nodded, finishing his thought. “It is the Desert of the Forgotten.”
I had never in my life seen such a thing. The sand stretched far into the distance; the heat created a fog, a distortion of the air on the horizon. My brother stood and then started forward. It was a slow walk at first, but it soon became a wild dash. He threw his head back; his eyes were closed. Cresting the far dune before I could catch up to him, he dug his feet deep into the sand. It forced him to trip, sending his pack flying from his shoulders as his body twisted and fell.
I reached his side, kneeling beside him as he looked out to where his pack was buried in the sand.
His eyes were wide; sand stuck to his sweating cheek.
“What is it, Ryan?” I queried, not yet following his gaze.
He grabbed me by the chin and physically turned my head. I begrudgingly allowed him to do so. There, on the next dune, was a lone man standing in the desert. His robes were a brilliant azure; they sparkled in the sun. A cloud hung just above him, casting shade over his figure. His dark black hair hung over his shoulders and beads were slung over each wrist in an artistic fashion. He turned to face us and I saw his features. Cool gray eyes with white centers watched us. The strong line of his jaw and smooth skin framed his tan face. His mouth opened, though I could hear no words. Whispers erupted all around me, thousands of voices running through my mind. My eyes closed despite my desire to continue looking forward.
Ryan stood and walked toward the figure. A single word escaped his lips as I struggled to open my eyes once more. “Shaman….”
For more adventures, be sure to check out The Path of the Fallen and Breath of the Creator on Kindle