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by Patricia Reding

  Eden approached her sister’s side. Together, they watched the vulture. “Something lives there anyway,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  “If you can call being a buzzard ‘living.’”

  They glanced at one another, grinning.

  “Come on,” Reigna urged, “it’s getting late. We should eat and rest.”

  “You want first watch tonight?”

  “It makes no difference to me. I’m still good for a time if you want to rest.”

  “No, you go ahead,” Eden said.

  They ate dried apples and meat from their packs. Once done, they made a makeshift shelter and hideaway with branches from the surrounding trees.

  “Go on, then,” Eden said. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

  Reigna crawled into the shelter, then reclined.

  Eden walked the campsite perimeter. With no fire, she could see well into the darkness beyond. She stepped toward the edge of Kiln. From within its confines, a low hissing sounded out. Momentarily spooked, she shrugged off the sensation.

  She marched the camp perimeter once again, and then made her way to the tethered horses. One, then the other, lifted its head and stomped a hoof.

  Taking the actions as a warning, Eden reached for a knife from inside her boot. Before she cleared the weapon of its sheath, a hand covered her mouth and nose, and another pulled her back. She sucked in a fast breath.

  The hands tightened.

  Her nose filled with a strange odor. Then, she knew nothing more.

  Reigna sat up with a start.

  Something was wrong—very, very wrong.

  The wan light of early dawn, pink and weak, peeked through the branches of her shelter. Why hadn’t Eden awakened her? It was long past the time for her watch.

  Listening to the surrounding silence, she grabbed the knife she’d kept at her side through the night, willing herself not to call out for her sister. If trouble visited them, she might still have the element of surprise on her side.

  She peeked out from her shelter.

  Stillness met her. Nothing moved—not a tree, nor a branch, nor a blade of grass.

  Slowly, she crawled out, sprang to her feet, and then turned toward the tethered horses.

  Gone! They’re both gone—along with all of our additional weapons, foodstuffs, and supplies.

  Her heart beating violently, her breath coming in short gasps, Reigna made her way around the camp. She kept low and took cover behind bushes and trees along her way, but found no sign of her sister.

  Where could she have gone? And why would she have taken both horses?

  Crouching down, she placed her hands to the sides of her head, thinking. It made no sense. Was this Eden’s way of showing her what it would be like to be on her own? Was her sister going to come around the corner in a moment, smiling? Was this a joke of some sort?

  No—certainly not. Eden is many things, but she’s no jokester.

  Again, Reigna walked around the camp. Looking down, she found large footprints—much larger than her own or Eden’s—in the dew-laden grass. Her eyes following the direction in which they headed, she took off after them.

  They ended where the horses had been tethered. The loose soil nearby was churned up, indicating that a scuffle had ensued there.

  Something on the ground, partially buried, shimmered in the morning light. Reigna knelt down and then dug into the sand with her fingers. There, she found Mara’s scrimshaw handled knife, one that Eden had carried in one of her boots.

  Someone must have come in the night. Eden must have struggled with him. But why didn’t she call out? Goodness, what did I sleep through?

  Examining the ground again, Reigna followed the horse’s hoofprints. They led to the edge of Kiln.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. They led right into Kiln.

  She looked into the distance.

  Eden is in trouble.

  Reigna rushed back to the shelter where she’d spent the night. She grabbed her backpack. It carried little that would be of help, but there was some rope in it, and a few small tools. She settled it on her back, then took up her canteen. It was all she had for water, but she couldn’t delay her search. If she moved quickly, she might not have to go far into the wilderness.

  As she walked to the edge of The Tearless, she pulled the canteen strap over her head, then wrapped her cape over her shoulders.

  “Here goes nothing,” she whispered as she stepped out. Her booted foot sank into the warm sand. She took one last look over her shoulder, then plunged ahead, following the tracks she felt certain would lead her to Eden.

  The sun broke over the horizon, bathing the sand in its rays. The desert floor sparkled, emanating a pink-orange glow. Immediately, the temperature rose.

  Beads of sweat collected on Reigna’s brow, while trickles of it ran down her chest and back.

  She stopped to remove her wrap, but then reconsidered. Without it, she might not perspire so much, but it would protect her skin from the sun’s brutal power. She left it on.

  The tracks before her seemed to go on forever. She looked back from whence she’d come, surprised that within just a few short minutes, she’d nearly lost sight of the landscape outside Kiln. Had it grown once she’d entered?

  As she drove on, the sun rose higher. The soft sand sucked her feet in with each step. Soon, her muscles ached.

  Hours passed until finally something on the distant desert floor caught her attention. With each step forward, it appeared larger.

  Dear Good One, please don’t let it be Eden there, hurt or . . .

  Eventually, she made her way to it. There she found Ira, dead in the sand, his eyes open but unseeing.

  As she fought back tears over the loss of her good and reliable animal friend, Reigna checked the bags hanging from his saddle. She found her extra blanket, another knife, a compass, and some dried herbs for teas and tinctures. She wouldn’t be brewing any tea in the desert, but the herbs might come in handy for other purposes, so she re-packed them to take along.

  She opened the compass and noted the direction from whence she’d come. Then she pulled the saddlebag over her shoulder. Once done, she retrieved her weapons, including her sword, from the horse’s back.

  As out of nowhere, a breeze sprang up. It moved the sand. Soon it would obliterate the path altogether.

  Her stomach lurched as once again, panic set in.

  While exhaustion held her back, fear of losing the path and her way to Eden, pushed her onward. Repeatedly, she stumbled in the sand, rose again, and then carried on.

  Time dragged.

  The breeze grew stronger. Tiny grains of sand danced in the air, and on the ground, filling in the hoofprints ahead of her. The path grew more faint with each step, and then, quite suddenly . . . it disappeared.

  Reigna looked about. Nothing but sand surrounded her. Even the sky was cloaked in a dirty orange-brown color. The sunlight barely cut its way through the air, which grew more solid by the moment.

  Her nose and eyes itched. She coughed and spit out a mouthful of the gritty substance. It would strangle her if the wind didn’t let up.

  She dropped to her knees and placed her bow and quiver on the ground at her side. Then she retrieved her blanket from her backpack. She offered a silent prayer of gratitude that it was made of heavy boiled wool. The sand might be able to penetrate it, but it would take some time.

  She put it over her head and tucked the bottom edges beneath herself. She hoped she could hold it steady against the breeze, which was quickly gaining strength.

  Gradually, the sand within her makeshift tent dropped down, leaving a pocket of cleaner air behind.

  Hours later, the light of day shone weakly though her covering. Within minutes, its intensity increased and the temperature rose.

  Goodness, I’m thirsty!

  She grabbed her canteen. She’d take a single swallow, she promised herself, just enough to wet her mouth and hopefully, to wash down the sand in it. She filled h
er mouth with water, swirled it around, swallowed, and then, summoning all her restraint, re-capped the vessel.

  As the light grew stronger and the heat grew nearly unbearable, Reigna removed her blanket.

  Though it remained a dirty orange-brown color, the air was clearer than before. Even so, she felt she’d choke on it.

  After pulling herself up and out of the cocoon of sand that had settled in around her, she looked about. As before, nothing interrupted her view. No trees, shrubs, birds, or other life, greeted her.

  She dug down where she’d put her bow and quiver of arrows, and unburied her things. Then she took up her compass, turned until her feet faced in the same direction in which she’d been headed earlier, and started out again.

  Eden had spent a day very like Reigna’s, the main difference being that she’d awakened to extreme heat and a baking sun. She found herself in the midst of The Tearless, with her horse, Mingo, dead at her side. The last thing she remembered from the previous night, was reaching for a weapon before a strong hand overcame her, and a stronger smell on a cloth pressed to her face, filled her nostrils.

  Did the desert advance in the night? I’m surrounded by it.

  She grabbed her blanket from a bag tied to Mingo, her bow, a quiver of arrows, and her saddlebag. Then she untied her canteen from Mingo’s saddle horn. She shook it. Though still full, she knew she’d have to drink sparingly.

  Now she’d need to find her way out of Kiln and back to her sister. She glanced at Mingo’s tracks in the soft sand, then into the barren wilderness. She’d follow his tracks back the way from whence they apparently had come.

  Her breath coming in short gasps, she struggled to stuff down her fear. Succumbing to it would only waste time and energy—and she had little of either to spare. Placing one foot in front of the other, she started out. Her feet sank into the fine, sugary sand. At this pace, the sun would move more quickly than she.

  Later, when a sand storm descended upon her, Eden dropped to the ground, then covered herself with her blanket. When the storm subsided, she couldn’t tell where the sun sat in the sky, so she stayed put until it could guide her once more.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Reigna looked out across the desert. Nothing but sand dunes stretched out ahead. She tried to lick her lips, but her tongue, thick and dry, stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  How long had she been in Kiln anyway? She couldn’t recall. The days all stretched on together, without respite from the heat, and the nights lingered as a dry cold set in simultaneously with each sunset.

  She shook her canteen. Not much water remained. She determined that she’d save the last drops for later, should Ehyeh allow her to continue on.

  Setting out again, she squinted, trying to focus through the waves of heat hovering in the air. The beating sun irritated her already sunburned and sand-scratched eyes.

  Sensing something flying above, she ventured a look, but could not identify whether it was a hawk, or an eagle—or a vulture. Then something in the distance caught her attention. Wanting a better look, she picked up her pace.

  Some minutes later, she stopped. Yes, she’d seen something, but it was nothing significant. A small desert fox lay dead in the sand at her feet. She crouched down to cover the animal with sand, then decided against it. If she left the carcass exposed, the buzzards would have something other than her to bother.

  Groaning, she set out again. Thoughts of Eden consumed her. Where was her sister? Had she found her way out? Or had she already perished in her attempts to do so? Will I ever see her again? Can I even hope to escape this place?

  With her eyes downcast, so as not to stumble, an unexpected sound made her flinch.

  Is that a bird call? Or is someone . . . screaming?

  The sound came again. Now nearly certain it was human, Reigna envisioned her twin in distress. She sucked in a breath and with it, gained a renewed vigor. She stumbled, then righted herself before continuing toward it. Though weak, she wouldn’t give up.

  She tripped and fell, rose back to her knees, then wiped the sand from her face. Some stuck in her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but too dry, she could not. She shook with effort, as she stood again.

  Cresting a sandy ridge, a wake of vultures danced before her. She estimated two dozen or more of them. They surrounded something—likely the origin of the screams that now sounded out clearly.

  Then she saw someone on the ground, crunched up into a ball. The vultures badgered about the form, as though engaged in some mad ritual mating dance. From time to time, one rushed forward, only to sluggishly skitter away again, when the person lashed out.

  Reigna pulled her sword free. The ring of metal sang through the air as she entered the birds’ midst. She danced in circles around the fallen form before her, swinging her weapon, daring the beasts to approach.

  One by one, the birds took to flight. As they set off, the quarry they’d pursued, and that she’d defended, fell over in the sand.

  Still in a fighting stance, Reigna watched the kettle of vultures fly in a circle around her. Slowly they peeled off, one by one. Moments later, they disappeared from view.

  Her shoulders slumped. Exhausted, she dropped her weapon, then turned to the fallen figure, now nearly buried in the sand. She crouched down and turned the body over.

  “Eden!”

  Her twin did not move.

  “Eden!”

  Her eyes fluttered open. She tried to speak, but no sound came.

  “Here.” Reigna struggled to open her canteen. Once done, she trickled water into her sister’s mouth. “Swallow.”

  Soon, she’d given the last of her water to her twin. She shook the empty vessel. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I have.”

  “Always the warrior,” Eden whispered.

  Relieved, Reigna smirked. “And it’s a good thing too. If I hadn’t arrived when I did, those varmints would have had you for dinner.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can you sit up?”

  Eden did. “They’re gone,” she said, looking about.

  “Yes, they’re all gone.”

  “They’ve been following me for two days.”

  “How long have you been without water?”

  “I don’t really know.” Eden shrugged. “I tried to save it, but . . . a full canteen isn’t all that much to begin with, I guess.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Eden touched the peeling skin on her sister’s cheeks and nose. “You look horrible.”

  “You should see yourself. Truth to tell, you wouldn’t win any beauty contests today.”

  “Now what?”

  “Now, we get out of here.”

  “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Eden’s asked, accusatorily. “You should never have come in here.”

  “Why did you?”

  Eden held her hand to her forehead. “I didn’t intend to. The last I remember before waking in this place of death was someone putting something over my mouth and nose.”

  “Well, when I found you missing, I followed your path,” Reigna said. “For so long as I could, anyway.”

  “I’m so sorry. I wish you hadn’t. I’d hoped at least one of us might survive.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Reigna scolded. “We’re going to get out of here.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I have our compass.”

  “I see. So, in what direction do we go? We don’t even know where we are. I think I’ve been traveling in circles.”

  “We go opposite the direction I took looking for you. That will lead us out of here,” Reigna said.

  “It’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “How many days have you been coming this way? And you had water then.” Eden huffed. “Now you think we can take that same time—with no water, mind you—and find our way out?”

  “We will get out of here.”

  “Huh.”

  “We will get out. Come on now,
let’s go. We’ve got to keep trying. It’s not over yet. Don’t count me out so easily.”

  “I’m not counting you out, I’m counting—”

  “Don’t you dare say it!”

  Eden opened her mouth to say more, but then closed it.

  “Don’t you dare say it,” Reigna repeated. “We are going to get out of here—both of us—alive. You’ll see.”

  Night fell, and with it the temperature plunged. The sisters went from sweating to shivering, in mere minutes. They tried to carve out a place to hide in the sand, but it kept caving back in on them. Exhausted, they both slumped to the ground.

  “I’ve a blanket,” Reigna said.

  Eden didn’t speak. She didn’t move.

  “I’ll get it.” Reigna fought back tears, fearing she’d lose her sister. “Here,” she said as, trembling from the cold, she pulled the item from her pack. She opened it up, then sat next to her twin and wrapped it around the two of them.

  “I can’t go—”

  “Stop it!” Reigna snapped. “Don’t say it. We’ll get out of here.”

  “You should save yourself.”

  Reigna held her sister’s chin and turned her face toward herself. She stared into her eyes. “That’s enough. Not another word like that. Do you hear me?”

  “I think I’d sell my soul right now for a swallow of water.”

  “You would not.”

  “Don’t try me.”

  “What is this I hear?” came a voice from out of the darkness.

  The sisters both bolted upright and, notwithstanding their miserable conditions, jumped to their feet.

  “Who is it? Who are you?” Reigna’s grip tightened on her sword.

  “Oh, not to worry,” came the voice again.

  The sisters both pivoted, seeking its origin.

  A light shone out faintly. Then slowly, it grew brighter.

  They moved closer together as it came toward them. When their eyes adjusted to it, they beheld a man, small of stature. His bare feet, with long, yellowed toenails, stuck out from beneath his tattered black robe. His skin, almost hidden behind his long scraggly hair, appeared to have been stretched tightly over his nose and cheekbones. He pursed his thin, colorless lips as his black eyes gazed upon them.