Oren sighed. “I know, you’re right. I guess I just always thought, if we ever met again, that we could pick up where we left off.”
“You are not the untested boy I met two years ago. It is likely she too has changed. Clementine may no longer be the same person you knew in New Arcadia. You must accept this if you wish to learn who she has become.” Khalil rolled a large stone over, leaning it up against the others. He stood and stretched his back, which popped loudly. “Old age has yet his honor and his toil,” he muttered.
Oren grabbed a nearby stone and began helping. “I’ve considered that,” he looked down and grunted as he tipped it over. “But I refuse to give up on the old Clem. On who she was. She has to be in there…somewhere.”
Khalil paused and took a drink from his canteen. A tremor shook the ground, sending dust and pebbles down from the outcropping. Khalil and Oren looked at each other, and a predatory bird shrieked high above.
The ground heaved.
A deafening roar filled Oren’s head. He looked over at Clem, whose face was pure shock. High above her, a large boulder teetered atop the outcropping as the ground shook. Oren yelled for her to move, but his voice was lost in the cacophony. He ran toward her waving his arms, staggering and falling as the ground was jerked out from under him. He reached her small shelter and immediately wrapped his arms around her, lifting as best he could, and heaved her up onto his shoulder. She pummeled his back, shouting from behind, “Put me down you big jerk!”
A stone smashed down from above, pulling the fabric sunshade down around them.
Oren charged blindly away from the outcropping. He got about ten steps before the fabric tripped him up, and they tumbled to the ground in a tangled mess of cloth and limbs. They huddled for a moment amidst the shaking. The ground gave one last shudder and subsided.
“Ouch! You’re on my leg you oaf! Get off me!” She sounded furious.
“I’m trying! I’m just as tangled up as you are.”
Oren managed to remove the cloth from over his head. He got his arms free and began pulling it off of Clementine. Finally free, they sat on the rocky ground panting.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Clem demanded, pushing aside tousled hair that had fallen across her flushed face.
Oren blushed. That definitely did not go as planned. “Saving…saving your life!”
“From a tiny pebble?” She pointed to the fist sized stone that brought down the sunshade. “I told you, I can take care of myself! I don’t need some thick skulled, beefheaded brute manhandling me every time he thinks I’m in danger.” She turned toward Khalil, who was standing nearby. “And what are you smirking at?”
She flinched as an aftershock briefly shook the ground. Crumbling stone rattled from the outcropping, drawing their attention. The massive boulder tumbled down and hit the ground with a thwump, completely flattening what was left of Clem’s shaded lounge.
Oren looked at her with raised eyebrows, ignoring the fact that his timing was a little off.
Clem looked at the boulder with shock, and then turned to Oren. “We’re still not even.” She crossed her arms, and looked away. Oren got the impression she’d have stormed off if she could have. “A ‘thank you Oren’ would be nice.” She didn’t respond and he threw his arms up in exasperation. Khalil’s smirk widened to a grin.
Oren stood and bent down to help Clementine up. She begrudgingly accepted his assistance, and allowed him to lead her over to her lean-to. After lowering her gently into the shelter, he stood surveying their camp. “Just great,” he muttered. The perimeter of rocks was scattered, and his lean-to had collapsed, covered in small stones. “Get comfortable. This is going to take a while to straighten up.” He turned and began walking toward his lean-to.
“Wait!” Clem’s voice called from behind him.
Oren turned.
“My pack.” She pointed to their awkward landing spot. She must have clung to it when he picked her up.
He sighed and retrieved it for her. It was deceptively heavy. “What do you keep in this thing?” He held it out.
Clem snatched it out of his hands and immediately began inspecting the contents. He paused for the ‘thanks’ he knew wouldn’t come, then walked over to Khalil, who had already begun straightening the perimeter stones.
“Can you believe her?” Oren said, glancing back to ensure they were out of earshot. “It’s like she’d rather die than admit she needs help.”
Khalil smiled and replied, “I like her.”
Oren looked at him sideways, then shook his head and continued working in silence.
By the time the camp was in order, the orange sun was resting lazily on the mountain peaks far to the west. Khalil sat beside the crackling fire, gently puffing on his pipe as thick steam rose from a pot of boiling roots. Oren sat across from him, staring into the flames.
Khalil pointed at the bucket with his pipe. “The roots should be ready, Sa’di.” Khalil then looked up past Oren and nodded his head toward Clementine’s lean-to. Oren turned around and saw Clem’s head peeking out. She quickly ducked inside.
Oren sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. The boiling water was a deep purple, indicating that they were indeed ready. He unpacked three wooden bowls and ladled a healthy serving into each. Khalil accepted his bowl with thanks, and set it down to cool. Oren placed his own bowl on the stone, and carried the third toward Clementine’s lean-to.
“Dinner’s ready.” He crouched down at the opening and held the bowl out to her. She pretended to be absorbed in whatever she was tinkering with. A blue glow emanated from inside her pack. She made no motion to take the bowl.
“Hello? Did you hear me? It’s time to eat.”
She continued working away, completely oblivious. Oren mumbled to himself and set the bowl down at the entrance.
His dinner was still steaming when he returned to the fire.
“Do you think it was a mistake? Going after her?” He was beginning to doubt whether she’d ever come around.
Khalil raised an eyebrow. “Only you can answer this, Sa’di.”
“I’m not sure she’ll ever stop hating me. It wasn’t even my fault!”
Khalil smiled, and quietly uttered something about youth, and days a year long.
“What was that?” Oren leaned in trying to catch it.
“Patience, Sa’di.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?” Oren was quite ready for this day to be over.
“Because, you already knew it to be true. Come, show me the Forms.” He gestured away from the fire.
“Training? Now? But the sun has set…and the camp—”
“Do not think pushing around a few boulders an excuse for skipping your exercises.”
Oren knew there was no point arguing. “Yes, Sifu.”
He picked up his sword and unsheathed it as he had a thousand times before. The sky had cleared and moonlight glinted off the blade. He entered passive stance and practiced the Forms. Khalil observed, occasionally correcting him. He continued with intense focus and concentration. Eventually, Oren found peace in the movements. When Khalil concluded the lesson, it was completely dark but for the fire. Oren was beyond exhausted. Within moments of crawling into his bedroll, he was deeply and soundly asleep.
***
The sun rose with blinding radiance. Oren stretched and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He had to wake now if he wanted time to eat. With their pace halted, Khalil had decided their spare time would be filled with sparring exercises and scouting missions for rare roots and flowers.
Breakfast consisted of dried aga and three clayfowl eggs that Oren had discovered on a perimeter sweep. He heated the strips of aga in a pan over the fire. Once it was hot enough, he added the three eggs. They were sizzling when Khalil jogged up and took a seat.
“Scouting?” Oren asked.
“Some things are best done before the world awakens,” Khalil answered cryptically.
Oren separated one of the fri
ed eggs, placed it on a wooden plate and handed it to Khalil.
“Ah! Excellent find, Sa’di,” he held up his plate in salute.
Oren nodded and plated another. He carried it over to Clementine’s shelter. There was no motion from inside, so he left the plate at the opening.
He walked back and began eating the third egg. It was a deliciously rich treat, and a rare find out here.
Khalil began outlining the day’s tasks.
Oren listened as he ate, nodding at the appropriate times.
“Repeat it back,” said Khalil, testing him.
“Explore to the northeast where the red sand lies. Search for a blue lizard the length of my fore-arm and capture it.” Oren repeated the task word for word, and Khalil nodded.
“Do not underestimate the blue mucca. They are harmless alone, but deadly in numbers.”
Oren took a drink and stood, strapping his sword to his waist and tying the canteen to his belt. Khalil tossed him a thick satchel with a shoulder strap. Oren lifted it over his shoulder and across his chest. He wrapped his head in a gray shemagh, and took one last glance back toward Clem’s shelter. The plate was gone.
The sun warmed Oren’s shoulders as he jogged north. A quick scan of the landscape revealed no immediate threats. He sectioned off a part of his attention to watch for danger, and set the remainder to finding something other than blue muccas. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was looking for, but he looked none the less. The landscape here was made of packed dirt and cracked stone. No grass grew, but the occasional shrub scraped its way up out of the dusty soil.
Oren walked briskly across the barren landscape. Nearly an hour had passed judging by the sun, and the ground began to climb upward to a rocky ridge. He decided he would take a brief rest once he reached the top. Eager to see what lay beyond, Oren pushed himself, jogging up the incline.
After several minutes he reached the top, panting hard with his hands on his knees. The elevated ridge provided an incredible view. Golden sand dunes stretched out for miles, baked dry beneath the hot sun. Jagged stone bluffs jutted out of the sand like monstrous, petrified, sea-monsters. To the east, the sand took on a reddish hue. He raised his canteen to take a drink and something caught his eye.
A white tree grew in the shadow of a sheer bluff to the northeast. Its limbs twisted around the trunk as they climbed their way up toward the sky. It was eerily beautiful, looking to Oren like a ghostly woman, dancing alone.
After a brief rest, Oren made a mental note of where the tree stood, and descended the ridge, setting out in the direction of the reddish sand. He crouched low and stepped carefully, avoiding loose rocks and boulders as he descended the steep bluff. He reached the bottom and continued east across the sand.
Oren’s mind wandered as he walked, and he recalled the night Khalil first told him of their plan to travel to New Arcadia. News of the journey had come as a complete surprise. Up ‘til then, Khalil had kept him relatively sheltered, with only the occasional trip to Eurig’s Veld. They rarely ventured as far as the Miralaja. Oren hadn’t thought he’d be heading back to New Arcadia for many more years.
He recalled the unusual seriousness of Khalil’s expression. The look in his eyes reminded Oren just how deadly his affable instructor really was. The assassin was always there, lurking just beneath the surface; ready to emerge at a moment’s notice. He replayed the conversation in his mind, hoping to glean something new.
“Make preparations. We journey to New Arcadia. Tomorrow.” Khalil turned to leave.
“What? Wait!” Oren stood from his seat on the floor.
Khalil paused, facing the door.
“Why would we go back there?” Oren asked. His stomach was in knots.
“There is something I…we, must obtain.”
Khalil looked back at him over his shoulder. “There is only so much I can teach you here. It is time you were tested. Truly tested.”
Oren let that sink in, then asked, “What are we…obtaining?”
Khalil turned and faced him. “We have reason to believe the Ministry is building something. In all likelihood it is already built. If half of what we have heard is true…” his eyes turned inward for a moment before continuing, “We need to learn more…discover if there is any truth to the claim. I will tell you more when we arrive. Pack your things. We leave at sunrise.”
Oren was jerked out of his reverie. Alarm bells were going off. Something’s wrong. He had drawn his sword without realizing it. That smell. An agaza lizard, and it was close. He chided himself for not noticing sooner. Frozen in a defensive stance, he scanned the landscape, looking for irregularities. His heart was pounding. His first check revealed nothing but sand and stone. He slowly scanned back in the other direction.
There!
A tiny, lightning-fast flicker in the sand marked the flipping tongue of his hunter tasting the air. Oren concentrated and the outline of the beast was revealed thirty feet ahead. He swallowed. This was not an adolescent. He had never seen one this big in person, though Khalil had told him they existed. He focused, not daring to look away and lose it.
Oren recalled what he’d learned about the beasts.
Either I’m in its territory, or it’s roaming in search of a mate; otherwise it would not be this close, or aggressive. I’ve detected it, therefore chances are it’s about to attack. An agaza will kill to defend territory, or impress a mate. Incredibly fast in short bursts. Few physical weaknesses. Poor vision, nasty temperament…car-sized, apparently.
Oren took a breath and prepared himself, but before he could exhale the massive aga charged with incredible speed. He had just a few seconds to react. Wait for it, he thought. He would need to move at the exact right time. The beast was twenty feet away…ten. Its legs were a blur. Without warning it was smashed sideways, tumbling in a cloud of sand and dust. Oren’s heart thudded in his chest. He unconsciously took a few steps back. More sand and dirt went flying into the air. He watched in shock and confusion.
There are two of them! Oren grinned. There was too much dust to see them clearly, but he saw enough to know he didn’t want to be around when it was over. He sheathed his sword and ran full speed toward the rust-tinged desert, glancing back to make sure neither followed. His full attention was now on watching for signs of danger, be they predator tracks, false pools of water, deadly plants, musky smells, suspicious rocks, or any of the other three hundred thirty-five things that would kill you out here.
After another thirty minutes of jogging, he finally reached the red sand. The rocks and buttes shared the same rusty color. Oren guessed it had something to do with there being an abundance of iron in the area.
“Right. Blue lizards,” Oren said to himself. He paused to take a drink, and headed toward a cluster of large rocks in the distance. He scanned for tracks along the way, and soon came across what looked like small reptilian patterns in the sand. They led toward the rocks, which he approached cautiously moments later. There didn’t appear to be any activity. Up close the rocks were more like stone shelves and huge boulders. They were maybe fifteen feet high, and Oren decided to climb up and have a look around. As he pulled himself up over the lip, he heard the sounds of scurrying and crunching. He crawled to the far edge and peeked over.
Hundreds of small, scaly lizards, in varying shades of blue, were scrambling over-top of each other, jockeying for position. Beneath the writhing, frenzied mass of reptiles, Oren caught glimpses of fur and purple flesh. Whatever it was they were eating, it was big. He watched as they tore hundreds of small hunks of meat from the unfortunate mammal.
Well, at least they’re distracted, he thought. A few indigo colored lizards lazed in the sun several feet from the kill. They looked bloated and sluggish. Must have been the first ones to dinner. Oren climbed back down behind the rocks and crept around the side. He approached the closest lizard from behind. They definitely looked bigger up close. He crept up, and it flicked its tail. The size of my fore-arm? It’s as big as the whole thing! This
was going to be a two handed operation. He removed the thick-skinned bag Khalil had provided, and pulled the drawstring open. After a quick glance up to make sure the others were still distracted, he made his move.
Oren leapt forward, reaching for its neck with one hand, and attempting to pull the bag down over its head with the other. It lurched just before he made contact. He managed to get a grip, but only on its front leg. It reached its head around and clamped onto his hand. “Ouch! You dirty little skag!” He shoved it into the bag, gripped it through the fabric, and pulled his hand free. It was suddenly far too quiet. Oren looked up and saw that about half of the writhing mass was no longer writhing. They had turned from their kill and spread into two groups, quietly scurrying into position to flank him.
Time to go! Oren bolted. Blood dripped from his hand, but there was no time to worry about that. The lizards gave chase. He glanced back. Little devils are faster than they look. They scurried after him like rippling dark blue pools sliding along the desert floor.
He kept pushing, running hard back toward the boundaries of the red desert. All the while the blue-skinned lizard in the satchel squirmed against his back. They’re gaining, he thought nervously. The front of the group was just a few feet behind him. Oren drew his sword, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. He felt a sharp pain in the back of his calf, and swung his blade behind without looking. Whatever had clamped on let go. He glanced back again to see several of the lizards stop to feed on their fallen comrade.
The edge of the red sand was close. He wasn’t sure, but he hoped that they might not follow him past it. It was pretty much his only plan at this point. Another lizard scurried under his feet, nearly tripping him. Just a few more steps. He crossed the boundary of the red sand and glanced back. Uh oh. They weren’t stopping. Oren wracked his brain for a plan B. He scanned the environment for something that might help when suddenly they broke off, scurrying back toward the red desert.
He stopped, turning to watch their retreat. “Hah! That’s right you little ankle biters! Back where you came from!” He grinned and patted the bag on his shoulder. “Not you, you’re coming with me.” It snapped at his hand through the cloth. Oren turned and froze. Why is the sand moving? Several hundred yards ahead, the very ground appeared to be sliding away from itself. The desert floor was vibrating gently, but with rising intensity. Oren stood, transfixed. A tiny voice in the back of his mind screamed to run, but he’d never seen anything like this before. It was so…so big!
Recreance (The Aeternum Chronicles Book 1) Page 18