Oren stood in awe as a gargantuan, convex stony surface slowly emerged from beneath the sand. A row of protrusions, each as big as a house, made a straight line down the center like segments of a spine. It was as if the desert itself had come alive and was rising up out of the ground. The scale was so massive that everything appeared to be happening in slow motion. More sand was displaced as what looked like a gigantic appendage rose from beneath the desert floor. It ended in a huge, blunt spike, which it drove down into the ground beside it. The impact boomed loudly, radiating tremors out through the desert. Oren staggered. It began pushing itself up from beneath the sand and rocks. The ground under Oren’s feet started to give way.
The panicky voice in his head got louder, and his sense of survival kicked in. Oren sheathed his blade and ran, harder and faster than he could ever remember running from anything. He staggered as another boom came from behind. He risked a look back to see that two spiked arms had now emerged. The inconceivably colossal behemoth lifted a gnarled, ancient head out of the sand, and raised its face up toward the sky. It had almost human features, but looked older than anything Oren had ever seen. He looked forward and pushed harder. A ground-shattering roar shook the air. He compulsively covered his ears as he ran. The sound was so all-encompassing that it drowned out all thought. The roar finally relented, leaving his ears ringing. How could any living thing make a noise that loud?
Oren continued sprinting as fast as he could. The terrain became rocky and uneven. He leapt over boulders and weaved between big, jagged rocks. Eventually he came to a shallow fissure and took cover inside, panting hard with his heart beating wildly. His shemagh was soaked with sweat. He took it off and sat with his back to the fissure wall. What in the name of the maker was that thing? His breathing slowed and he took a drink from his canteen with a shaking hand. A few drops spilled onto his shirt. Oren tried to calm his nerves with several deep breaths. He paused, listening intently. The only sound he heard was the yelp of a sandfox.
A small degu mouse scurried over his boot and into a crack in the fissure wall. Oren stood and cautiously poked his head out of the fissure. The uneven ground, boulders, and cracked stones blocked his view back. He climbed out and onto a nearby stone shelf to get a better look. Should probably make sure the boiling thing didn’t follow me. He told himself it was definitely that, and not the fact that he was beginning to doubt his sanity.
Oren neared the top of the staggered shelf, and for a split second pictured the massive ancient skull of the colossus waiting for him on the other side. He shook off the idea and pulled himself up onto the shelf’s flat surface.
He furrowed his brow. That’s impossible. The desert stretched out before him as always. There were definitely no signs of any mountain-sized creatures. Okay, there is no way something that big could just disappear. Oren rubbed his eyes and scanned back to the spot where he saw it rise. The desert floor was undisturbed. He shook his head and shaded his eyes, looking again. There’s no way I imagined that…is there? He knew he should have been relieved, but the self-doubt was eating away at him.
He made his way back down, trying to figure out how something that big could just disappear. It must have incredible camouflage…or maybe can burrow itself back down into the ground in a heartbeat. None of it sat right with him, but he couldn’t accept the alternative – that he was going crazy and had imagined it.
The lizard in his satchel suddenly wriggled against his back, reminding him why he was out there in the first place. “Right!” He held the satchel out in front of him. “You and I have somewhere to be; but first, I have to make one last stop.” He slid the satchel back over his shoulder, and made his best guess as to which way the white tree stood.
It turned out his guess wasn’t half bad. Another half hour of jogging brought him beneath the branches of the majestic tree. The broad base was made up of smaller trunks, swirling around each other. Oren ran his hand along the bone-white surface. It was perfectly smooth, and felt more like stone than wood. As the trunks twined their way up, some jutted away from the base, pointing out toward the blue sky. Others kept going, only to end at points higher up. It was larger and more robust than any trees he’d come across in the desert, which were mostly withered and barely alive.
He looked at a number of branches scattered on the ground beneath it. That’s it! He had finally found what he’d been searching for. He walked around, picking up branches and testing their strength. Oren took the ones that were long and strong enough and tucked them under his arm. When he was done he had four solid branches as tall as his chest and as thick as his wrist. They were surprisingly light and durable. He bundled them up and finally began his journey back to camp.
By the time it was in sight, the sun was directly overhead, and his appetite was ravenous. Khalil sat cross-legged beside his lean-to, polishing his blade. He looked up as Oren approached.
“Ah, Sa’di! You were successful, then?” he nodded to the satchel over his shoulder.
“You could say that,” Oren said, still somewhat shaken by what he had, or hadn’t seen.
Khalil looked at the bundle of wood under his arm. The branches were much thicker than the kind they collected for firewood. “I see you found the bùxiû tree. “Building something?”
“Perhaps. I’ll just have to see what shapes the wood holds.” My turn to be cryptic, Oren thought with a smile.
A slight smile pulled at the corner of Khalil’s mouth. “Very well,” he said.
Oren set the wood down nearby.
“Bring the satchel to me,” Khalil held out his hand.
Oren walked over and handed it to him. The lizard wiggled inside. Khalil loosened the drawstring and peered in. He looked up at Oren. “I see you selected the largest blue mucca in the entire ‘laja.”
Oren grinned and shrugged.
Khalil closed the drawstring and leaned over to his pack. He took out a few long strips of white cloth and a ceramic bowl. He set the bowl down in front of him and poured some water into it from his canteen. He then loosened the satchel and held it open with one hand. The other hand hovered over the opening as he looked inside. It shot into the bag lightning fast, and he pulled the lizard out by the neck. It wiggled and hissed, trying to escape, but Khalil’s iron grip was unyielding. He dropped the bag and used his free hand to caress the lizard beneath the chin. Its mouth shot open, revealing two rows of tiny, razor-sharp teeth.
Oren looked down at his own hand, remembering the bite. Given how it had bled, he was surprised to find it relatively clean and painless.
Khalil held the lizard’s head over the bowl, and flicked it behind the jaw. A clear liquid dripped from its mouth.
“What is that?” Oren leaned in to get a closer look.
“It is mucca venom. Its healing properties have been known to the desert people for many centuries.”
Desert people? Oren thought, I’ll have to ask more about them sometime.
“It is also an anesthetic, and a powerful hallucinogen when injected directly into the bloodstream,” Khalil looked up at Oren, who was examining his hand. “Were you bitten?”
Oren moved his hands to his side. “No,” he said. Khalil eyed him for a moment, then continued his work.
Hallucinogen, Oren thought, but I know what I saw. It was real…wasn’t it?
After three or four drops fell into the water, Khalil took the satchel and pulled it over the mucca, closing it back up. He swirled the water with a small stick, and placed the bandages into the bowl.
“Bring this bowl to your friend and wrap her ankle in the bandages. It will reduce the pain and swelling, and speed her recovery.” Khalil stood, stretching his back.
“Got it,” Oren took the bowl. “Thanks.”
Khalil nodded and Oren made his way over to Clementine’s shelter.
“Ahem,” he announced his presence before squatting down at the opening. Clem sat leaning against the stone, writing something in one of her small notebooks. As usual, she did not loo
k up or even acknowledge his arrival.
“I’ve got something here for you.” He held up the bowl.
Clem continued sketching.
Oren sighed. “Are you just going to keep on ignoring me the whole time you’re here?” He furrowed his brow, waiting. “Will you answer me?”
“If I do, will you leave me alone?” she asked, without looking up.
Oren rolled his eyes. “I’ve got something here that will help your ankle—”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted.
“It will reduce the pain and swelling—”
“I said I’m fine. I—”
“And it will help it to heal faster. Isn’t that what you want? So you can get as far away from here as soon possible?”
She looked up at him. “Were you always so annoying? I don’t remember you being this annoying.” She put down her sketch book, saving the page with her pen.
“There’s a lot you don’t remember, apparently. Like how we used to be friends?”
“Look, as much as I’d love to sit here and argue with you all day, I’ve got work to do. So if you’ve got something that will help my ankle then either give it to me or get lost.”
Oren stared at her flatly. “Fine. Show me your ankle.”
She glared back, then rolled up her legging and extended her ankle toward him. He took it gently and examined it. The swelling was quite bad. It was worse than he originally thought. No doubt she’d blame him for that too.
Oren got to work wrapping her foot in the wet bandages. They were unusually cool to the touch.
Clem’s eyes widened. “What did you put on those?”
“It’s mostly water, mixed with a few drops of blue mucca venom.”
“Blue mucca? What is that, a snake?” She appeared to be relaxing, somewhat.
“No, it’s a lizard. I caught it about ten miles to the northeast of here.” He continued wrapping her ankle in silence. He positioned the final bandage, tucking in the end. “How’s that? Any better?” he asked, gently placing her leg back down onto the blankets.
“Actually, yes…” she said with surprise, then caught herself. “But don’t think this makes us—”
“I’m not doing this to try to make up for anything. I’m doing it because I want to.” He stood to go before saying anything he’d later regret, and walked toward his own shelter.
His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Oren took some dried rations from his pack and began munching on them. Still chewing, he walked over and examined the bundle of white branches. After he finished eating, he set to work.
14
Purpose
The work absorbed Oren’s full attention for hours. By the time he stopped, the sun was resting just above the mountains. For whatever reason, Khalil hadn’t interrupted him to train or spar for chores.
Using some makeshift stone tools he picked up around the camp, Oren split one of the long branches of wood until it resembled a “Y” shape. Mid-way down the split, he lashed a ten inch long piece of wood across the gap using strangleweed. He lashed another across the gap at the top. Lastly, he bound the wood tightly where the split began, to prevent it from dividing further. Oren was about half way through the second one when he realized how late it was. He looked around and saw Khalil preparing dinner.
He stood up and stretched before making his way to the cooking fire. “You made dinner.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“You appeared…preoccupied.”
Huh, Oren thought. First time for everything, I guess.
Once the keraba roots had stained the water purple, Khalil doled out servings into two bowls and handed them to Oren.
Oren nodded thanks, and stood to deliver one of them to Clementine. This time he simply walked up and set the bowl down in front of her shelter, then headed back toward the fire.
“Hey!” Clem’s voice came from behind.
Oren paused, bracing himself for further rebuke. He turned around and waited.
“Thanks,” she said, before promptly ducking back in to her shelter.
He stood there for a moment, shocked. Once it wore off, he smiled to himself and walked back to join Khalil for the meal.
The next morning, Oren continued working on his project, uninterrupted as before. By mid-morning, he was finished. He placed one under each armpit, gripping the wood lashed part-way down the split. He tested them, gingerly allowing them to support more and more of his weight. He winced as they creaked, then relaxed when it became clear they would hold. He tested them further, using the crutches to walk with just one leg. They were a little short for him, but they’d be perfect for Clem.
He leaned them against a rock and nodded with satisfaction. Clem was on the other side of the camp. She had asked him to face her toward some unusual plant life, which she had been sketching for the past couple hours. He walked over to her and looked over her shoulder.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s actually really good! I didn’t know you could draw.”
She snapped the book shut and turned her head toward him. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” She looked at him, waiting for him to say something, which he didn’t. “Is there some reason you’re here bothering me instead of out playing desert ranger?” Her words held the same bite as before, but there seemed to be slightly less venom in her tone, at least he hoped it was so.
“I, uh…” he stammered. Why didn’t I plan what I was going to say?
Clem rolled her eyes. “If you actually have something to—”
“I have something to show you…for you. If you want,” his words came spilling out. “I mean you seem busy so I can come back la—”
“What is it already? Spit it out.”
“I’ll be right back.” Oren turned and jogged over to where the crutches lay. He picked them up and jogged back to her.
“I came across some decent wood out in the desert and thought, ‘Hey Clem’s probably sick of being stuck in one spot all day. So maybe I can make something that would help.’ If you want, you can try them out. I’ve tested them and they hold me pretty well, so they should work for you.” He held them out to her, a little embarrassed.
She awkwardly pushed herself onto her good leg. He put an arm around her and helped her to get a crutch under each arm. She put her good leg down and lifted the crutches, using them to step forward. She wobbled, and Oren steadied her.
“They might take some getting used to. I got the height as best I could but—” Before he could finish she was off, swinging between the crutches as she made her way around the camp site. When she made it back to where he was, she was wearing a huge grin. It was the first time he’d seen her smile since he left New Arcadia, and it felt amazing. Once again, Oren was struck by her beauty. She must have noticed because she stopped in front of him, raising an eyebrow. Oren looked away and cleared his throat.
“So ah, looks like they work! That’s great,” he said.
“Yeah, they’ll do.” She said wryly. “Really, it was the least you could do, considering you’re the reason I’m in this mess to begin with.”
Oren wasn’t sure how to respond. “Okay, well I should probably get back to work. Khalil will only cover my share of the chores for so long before he makes me pay for it.” He laughed nervously and waved.
Clem’s jaw dropped, and her eyes went wide with shock.
“What is it?” he asked. Oren followed her gaze to his missing finger. “Oh…OH! No, I don’t mean that he…Khalil would never—this happened before. He actually saved my life. If not for him there’d be a lot less of me left—”
Clementine exhaled in exasperation. “Okay, I get it. Your ‘friend’ doesn’t punish you with amputations. Good to know.”
“Right. Anyway I should get going.” He started to wave again, then stopped and used the other hand.
“Hey Oren,” she said, “Thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem.” He smiled and walked ba
ck to Khalil.
“Sifu,” Oren nodded.
“Ah, Sa’di. I see you have finished your project.”
“Yeah, I just thought, you know, maybe if I show her that I’m not a horrible person…that maybe she would…” he trailed off. “That she might tell us what she’s doing out here,” he finished awkwardly.
“Mhm,” Khalil responded, looking at him with that slight smile that never seemed to leave his face. “Well you have some catching up to do, but first, we must see who will do the evening chores.” He tossed Oren’s sword to him and launched into an attack.
Oren, caught mostly off guard, stepped back, barely deflecting Khalil’s first blow. They battled across the campsite, driving one another back as the advantage shifted back and forth. Khalil and Oren had fought so many times that their sparring had become a dance; an exchange of attacks and counterattacks. They both used the environment to their advantage, leaping off rocks and running across the vertical walls of the butte.
Sweat dripped down Oren’s brow. This was one of the better sparring sessions he’d had. He was matching Khalil strike for strike, and nearly had him in the last bout. Khalil was bearing down on him, but Oren managed to slip out from under him and flank, going on the offensive. This is it, he thought, finally, I’m going to win! Clack, clack, clack! The sound of their sheaths connecting echoed off the surrounding rocks.
Oren heard a noise off to the side. He glanced toward it, and realized for the first time that they had an audience. Clementine was watching from beside her lean-to. She looked on with wide eyes, obviously impressed.
Recreance (The Aeternum Chronicles Book 1) Page 19