by Lana Axe
Taren sat back, shaking his head. An amazing race of people the La’kertans were. They were well adapted for many climates, much more so than humans. If he survived this journey, he hoped to one day visit the land of La’kerta and learn more about its inhabitants.
Retrieving another waterskin from his bag, he took a few sips to quench his ever-present thirst. The sun finally surrendered its place in the sky, allowing the cool night air to take over. The desert itself seemed to sigh with relief as the heat began to dissipate. Zamna finally came out of the ground, shaking himself to remove the tiny grains of sand that clung to his scales and clothing.
“I think it’s best if we move only at night,” he suggested. “We can move faster in the cool air.”
“You think there will be more places to spend the day?” Taren asked. “I’m not sure I can bury myself in the sand like that.”
“I’ll bury you if I have to,” the La’kertan replied with a laugh. “Let’s get moving.”
Taren put his robe away, grateful for the shade it had provided. He took a few more sips of water to keep himself hydrated enough to walk. For two more days, they continued this pattern: walking at night to avoid the heat, and staying low during the day, shaded by boulders or tall cactuses. Taren was quickly running out of water.
“You see that rock wall in the distance?” Zamna asked, pointing to the south west. “There could be water there. We should head that way.”
Without argument, Taren followed his companion. He had only half a waterskin left, and there was plenty more desert ahead.
As they approached the wall, Zamna could see a dark streak running along the rocks. The sand beneath it was pooled with dark, damp sand. Smiling, he announced, “I think we’ve found water.”
To their great relief, a small stream trickled between two segments of the massive red-rock wall. Removing his pack, Taren retrieved all of the empty waterskins and held them beneath the water. It took hours to fill them all, and dawn was upon them before he had finished.
“We’ll have to stay here until sundown,” Zamna said. “There’s no sense in leaving the water behind. Drink all you can, and make sure your skins are full when it’s time to leave.”
Taren couldn’t be more grateful for this welcome relief. Though the water was not abundant here, there was enough to raise his spirits and give him the strength to continue. Pressing his face against the wet rock, he basked in its cool embrace. They would have to move to the dry side of the wall in the afternoon, but for now, he enjoyed the company of the water. Even Zamna took a moment to drink and splash water over his scales.
With the sun moving low in the sky, the duo once again took to their feet. They walked in silence until well past midnight, when Zamna suddenly reached out a hand and halted the mage from going any farther. Kneeling down, he gestured for his companion to do the same. Taren appeared confused, so Zamna had to point at the trouble ahead of them.
In the distance, a tall, lurking figure moved with a massive stride. It had long, apelike arms, its hulking frame covered in thick white fur. Taren could hardly believe his eyes. “A snow beast?” he whispered.
With a shrug, Zamna said, “I’ve never seen one before.”
“I have,” said Taren, “but I can’t imagine what such a creature is doing here. They occasionally come down from the mountains when food becomes scarce in winter.”
“We should lay low,” Zamna suggested. “Maybe it won’t see us.”
Taren agreed, and the pair moved off to take cover near the rolling dunes. After waiting half an hour, Taren could no longer resist the urge to take a look at the creature’s whereabouts. Unfortunately, it had moved closer. Ducking down behind the dune, he informed his companion. “I think it’s heading this way,” he said. “Do you think we can outrun it?”
“No,” Zamna replied. “Its stride is twice ours. Unless it’s injured, it will be on us within a few steps.”
“Can you sneak up and kill it?” Taren had no desire to harm the creature unless it was necessary to preserve their own lives. However, missing the opportunity to be rid of it before it could turn on them would be unwise.
“It’s harder to remain hidden from an animal than a man,” Zamna explained. “Animals rely on many different senses, one of them being scent. With this warm air, it’s going to be difficult to avoid detection.”
“I’ll have to use magic, then,” Taren decided. “If it gets any closer, I’ll do my best to subdue it.” Peering over the dune, he kept a close eye on the creature, hoping it would turn away.
Zamna scanned the area for a better place to hide. He had yet to witness Taren’s abilities in a fight, and he could not put his faith in the mage’s skills. A few yards east stood another rock wall, though not as massive as the one they found earlier. It appeared to have a crevice at its center, and the pair might be able to squeeze inside. With any luck, the snow beast would not be able to fit. Tapping Taren on the shoulder, he whispered, “We should try to make it to that formation.”
Taren nodded and stayed low. They ran as quickly as they could in their crouched position, making their way to the wall. The snow beast caught their scent on the night air and sniffed at the breeze with interest. A flash of white caught his eyes, and he observed it closely. To his delight, he beheld a man in a white robe, along with a second figure moving across the sand.
With a deafening cry, the beast pounded its chest before pursuing the travelers. The sound of the beast urged them on, and they ran with all speed toward the wall. Zamna squeezed inside the crevice easily, flattening himself between the massive rocks. Grabbing Taren’s arm, he pulled the mage into the narrow opening just as the snow beast’s massive paw came crashing down. His claws struck the wall causing it to rain sand and debris.
Angered that his prey was out of reach, the snow beast cried out again, his fury piercing through the night. Savagely, he clawed at each side of the crevice, peeling away the time-hardened layers. The pair had greatly underestimated the massive creature’s strength.
“He’s going to dig until he’s collapsed the entire wall!” Taren called out. “We’ll be crushed!”
Zamna looked deeper inside the crevice but saw only darkness. There was no escape out the back. The only way out was through the creature. Flattened against the wall, there was no chance of drawing his daggers. Not that it would matter much against a creature of such ferocity. His fighting experience was limited to humanoid creatures, and he had never hunted an animal without stealth on his side. “Do something!” he shouted at Taren. “You’re a master wizard! Do something!”
The wall began to crack as more and more debris came crashing to the ground before them. With the wall becoming unstable, Taren knew it was time to act. If he did not, they would surely be killed. Though he had never had need to destroy a snow beast, he had learned that they were highly susceptible to fire magic. Mustering all his energy, he spoke the words to produce flames. Raising his hand to the level of his shoulder, he blasted a heated beam of red light at the beast. It roared in anger but was otherwise unharmed. Trying a second time, Taren closed his eyes to concentrate. A second beam, this time more intense, flew from his fingers, hitting the beast directly in its chest. It took a few steps back but quickly shook off the blow.
“It’s not working!” Taren cried.
“Try something else!” Zamna called back.
The wall continued to crack, and debris was now falling from directly above them. Approaching with renewed vigor, the snow beast pounded its massive fists against the opening, shrieking with anger.
Taren searched his mind to come up with a better fire spell. He could find none. All that came to mind were frost spells, and the beast was sure to be immune. His magic reserves were running too low for a paralysis spell to be effective. Such spells required far too much energy for Taren to cast after such an expenditure. There was no time to drink a restorative potion, and his pack was wedged too tightly to fit his hand inside.
“Now, Taren!” Za
mna cried, his voice carrying over the crashing sound of rocks.
Without hope of success, Taren mustered every ounce of magic within himself and focused his mind to the snow beast. Turning all of his will to frost, he shouted the words to the strongest spell he could cast. A beam of white energy erupted from his fingertips, blasting the massive beast away from the opening. It flew nearly twenty yards through the air before landing with a massive thud, spraying sand in all directions. Taren steeled himself for another attack, but the creature did not move.
From behind, Zamna nudged the mage forward. “Run!” he shouted.
Without hesitation, Taren forced himself forward and broke into a run. Behind them, the massive wall crumbled from the top, a huge section of rock tumbling to the earth. The crevice was completely blocked. Had they stayed in their hiding place, they would have been trapped.
Zamna leaned forward, his hands against his thighs, and coughed. Looking over at the snow beast, he asked, “What did you do to him?”
“Frost,” Taren replied, still in shock that the spell had worked. Standing up straight, he felt lightheaded and drew in a deep breath. His magical stores were empty, as was his physical strength. Swinging his bag around, he reached in to find a restorative potion. Chugging down the entire vial, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and dared to approach the unmoving form of the beast. Embedded in its chest was a row of small, silver spikes. Blood was still seeping from the wounds as well as the creature’s mouth. Its eyes stared lifelessly at the stars.
Zamna came to his side to observe the beast. “Icicles?” he asked, touching one of the spikes. “It’s cold.”
Taren nodded, surprised by his own success. All of his offensive spells had been learned in books. He had cast only a few at targets, and none had proved so potent.
“Why didn’t the fire subdue it?” Zamna wondered, remembering the sight of flames the mage had conjured.
“The land is cursed,” Taren replied with a shrug. “My guess is the laws of magic have been altered somehow.”
“What made you use frost?” Zamna asked. “I wouldn’t expect cold to harm a creature from the Arctic.”
“Honestly? It was all I could think of,” Taren admitted. He thought back to his lessons with Master Imrit, and recalled a strange bit of advice the old wizard had given him. “Sometimes the least likely solution is the best one,” he said. “My master told me that once, and it appears he was correct.”
“Sounds like something a mad sorcerer would say,” Zamna replied.
“Only someone who had tried and failed repeatedly would think of such a thing,” Taren replied with a grin. He admired the tenacity of the old wizard who had experimented at length with so many different spells. It was that careful study that had led him to information about the symbol.
Zamna brushed at the dust covering his leather clothes. “What you did was pretty amazing,” he admitted. “You saved us. No doubt of that.” He turned to look again at the collapsed rock wall. Though it had taken some prodding, the mage had come through in a dire situation. Zamna felt a new level of respect for the young man. Previously, he had little confidence in the young man’s abilities. His doubts were now gone.
“I did what I had to do,” Taren said, hoping to glaze over his pride. He was impressed by his own abilities, but he didn’t wish to appear overconfident or arrogant. Inside he was the same old Taren, a young man with an affinity for herbs and potions. He was no fighter, and he was not a master wizard yet. That title would come only after he had retrieved the symbol and placed it in his master’s hands.
“You should probably rest after that,” Zamna suggested. “You must be tired.”
“Actually, I feel great,” the mage replied. “That potion not only rejuvenates magic, but it also gives your entire body a boost. I could probably walk farther tonight than any other.”
Zamna laughed softly. “Then you should probably make several more, and make a few for me as well.”
Taren smiled and looked inside his bag. He had enough ingredients to craft only five more rejuvenation potions in addition to the ones he had prepared before leaving Imrit’s cottage. He hoped that would be enough to get him to the tomb and back. The ingredients were difficult to find and extremely costly if they had to be purchased.
They continued heading southward through the night and stopped to rest as the sun reached its peak at midday. The desert stretched on ahead of them, forcing them to continue their nightly march for a few more days. After what seemed an eternity in the wasteland, a village came into view on the horizon. They had survived the desert.
Chapter 10
Taren was overjoyed by the sight of the village in the distance. “We’ve made it!” he shouted, his voice elated. “A warm bed and food that isn’t dried out,” he added.
“It’ll be a welcome change,” Zamna replied.
The two moved quicker with the village in view. The deep, shifting sand gave way to hard-packed dirt. The town lay a couple of miles from the edge of the desert, but the walk was tolerable knowing there was an end in sight. Taren couldn’t hold back a smile as sparse patches of green grass appeared scattered over the land. Though this area was not a lush green forest, it was the most beautiful sight he’d seen all week.
As they moved closer, they realized this was no village. What appeared small from their angle was actually a large city, spreading far to the south away from the desert. There was no wall surrounding it, which meant it was probably not susceptible to the sandstorms of the nearby desert. The city appeared to stretch on for miles, a welcome sight for Taren. Other mages might reside here who had knowledge of the tomb. Though he would have to use caution when inquiring about it; he knew nothing of these people except that they formerly traded with the Sisters of Gy’dan.
“I thought the Sisters said this was a village,” Zamna commented as they approached.
“She said they hadn’t been here in a while. It must have grown.” Taren’s feet met with the stone-paved roadways of the city. The structures before him were also built of stone, likely due to the absence of wood in this area. The buildings were sturdy as well as pleasing to look at. Taren felt at home among the cozy rows of houses.
Two towering stone posts bore a large sign engraved with the city’s name: Yilde. As they proceeded farther inside the city, the buildings became more cramped. They were lined up neatly, but the sides were almost touching. Only a small animal could fit between the stone structures. People were scattered here and there, going about their various activities. No one paid any heed to the two travelers. Not even Zamna’s strange appearance could draw their attention.
The people appeared human, but their skin was different than any Taren had seen. It was ashen-gray in color. He found it strange that they were not more bronze, considering the intensity of the sun at this location. He shrugged it off as just another race he had failed to learn about in his studies. With his head always buried in books about herbs, he had missed out on a lot of education. It was obvious the ancestry of these humans was far different from his own. With the lack of reaction from the citizens, he decided they must be well aware of the various races in the world of Nōl’Deron. Though it was not near any ocean port, Taren wondered if this city might serve as a center of commerce. If it had been worth the Sisters’ time to cross the desert to trade here, the city must certainly have been special in some way.
As they passed by the buildings, a sign caught Taren’s eye. A mortar and pestle painted in white upon a wooden sign signaled the presence of an apothecary. “Maybe the proprietor will allow me to use his equipment,” Taren said. “I’d like to replace a few potions before we leave.”
“Looks like there’s a tavern ahead,” Zamna said, pointing to a building a few doors away. It bore a large sign with a frothy mug painted in bright yellow.
“I’ll meet you there,” Taren said, heading up the steps to the apothecary.
A small bell rang, informing the shop owner that a customer had entered. Taren lo
oked around and saw rows of shelves neatly lining the walls of the shop. Each shelf was filled with bottles and jugs of various sizes, and glass jars full of herbs and other items. In the farthest corner of the shop was a small laboratory featuring a metal table, mortar and pestle, an alembic, flasks, and vials. An open door into a back room revealed the location of the athanor, but Taren didn’t plan to make potions complicated enough to require a furnace.
A skinny man with a long white beard appeared from the back room and stared at the young mage. “Yes?” he asked, his tone impatient.
Taren couldn’t help feeling that he had interrupted the man. “I’d like to make use of your laboratory, if you’ll permit me,” Taren said. “I’ve brought my own ingredients.”
“If you won’t be purchasing anything, it’s hardly worth it to let you use my equipment,” the man replied, looking the mage up and down. “Besides, how do I know you won’t break something? Do you even know what you’re doing when it comes to potion crafting?” He eyed Taren suspiciously.
Opening his shoulder bag, he held it up for the apothecary to inspect. “All of these were crafted by my hands,” he announced. “I am an herbalist from Ky’sall.”
The old man raised his eyebrows and said, “I haven’t had a visitor from Ky’sall since…ever. You may use the laboratory for a fee of one silver coin.” He stood with his arms crossed, awaiting Taren’s payment.
“Of course,” Taren replied, fishing in his bag for the money. A silver was a lot to him, but he doubted the opportunity to use quality equipment would come again on this journey. With a polite smile, he handed the man a silver coin.
“Help yourself,” the man said. Walking behind the counter, he sat upon a wooden stool to observe the apprentice’s actions.
The setup to the lab was similar to that of Master Imrit’s, only smaller. He suspected this area was for crafting quick potions at a customer’s request. The bulk were probably made in an unseen room that offered a more comfortable workspace. He sat down and pulled out an assortment of herbs and some powders he had refined prior to leaving Ky’sall. It took more than an hour, but he managed to finish three rejuvenation potions before his neck began to cramp from the uncomfortable workspace. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he decided this would have to suffice. He’d needed to use only one so far, and he hoped there wouldn’t be much need to use the rest.
