Chapter 12: The Outlands

Hello All

Well, the illustrious and elusive Mr. Scott is back! He asked me to apologize for how long this post took in coming: writer's block is such a pain. But enough! Enjoy!

Chapter 12: Beneath the Desert Sky

The sun beat down mercilessly the following morning, scorching the landscape with its withering heat. After a quick breakfast, the travelers boarded the wagons and set off down the road.

            The road, which was little more than a dirt path, took them down the hill and through the town. Several people ambled about the streets, but for the most part they saw no one. Spirit feelings of foreboding returned, stronger than ever.

            Gradually, the buildings thinned, until they ended abruptly. Spirit was so surprised he caught his breath, glancing frantically about him. “Where did the village go?” he wondered aloud.

Bellirn chuckled. “Startling, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder if those crazy old ranchers built the town that way on purpose. But the village is still right behind us. It’s what’s ahead you need to be worrying about.” He nodded forward.

Spirit twisted back to the front and his breath caught in his throat.

After barely five minutes of riding, the tough bushes and trees that had characterized the landscape for the past week were gone, stripped away as if they had never existed. Instead, withered tufts of sorry-looking scrub poked up from dusty earth, almost seeming to crackle in the relentless heat. Here and there cacti stood motionless, gazing sternly across their dry domain. High overhead, a bird circled, scanning the earth below for signs of prey. Occasionally it loosed a blood-curdling screech, as if frustrated by its work. In the distance, waves of heat rolled off the bleached sand, giving the impression that they were deep underwater.

All in all, it was the most forbidding, miserable place Spirit had ever set his eyes upon.

Aghast, he stared over at Bellirn. Already sweat was beginning to pour down his face. “We have to travel for two weeks— through this?” he asked incredulously.

Bellirn nodded grimly. “The worst part of the journey. And this isn’t nearly as bad as it’s going to get.”

Spirit shook his head, amazed. “How much worse can it get?”

Bellirn glanced over at the boy leaning back against the wall of the wagon and smiled. But there was no humor in his smile. “Trust me; it’ll get worse.”

                                    *                      *                      *

By the time Bellirn had ordered the caravan to a halt long after sunset, Spirit was covered in sand and sweat and totally miserable. He had expected the flies to be horrendous, but evidently the tiny insects were smart enough to stay away from the killing temperatures of the desert. Most of the other animals stayed in the relative cool of their burrows, coming out only once the sun had set.

The minute the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, Spirit had felt the air begin to cool. With a grin, he’d leaned back against the wall of the wagon, feeling much more at ease. But after several minutes, Bellirn had begun rubbing his arms briskly.

Spirit looked at him in surprise. “Are you cold,” he asked.

Bellirn looked over, astonished. “Aren’t you?”

Spirit shook his head. “No. Actually I’m quite comfortable.”

Frowning, Bellirn reached over and laid a hand across Spirit’s arm. The minute Bellirn touched him, he broke into an astonished grin. “You’re so warm! How are you doing that?”

Spirit shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never really had a problem with being cold.”

A momentary frown had crossed Bellirn’s face. “Funny. I’ve never heard of a fire elemental that could do that.” He looked at Spirit closely for a moment, then turned back forward with a quiet ‘hmm’.

Later that evening, after they had eaten their dinner of leftover pigeon, Spirit was sitting cross-legged behind Bellirn’s wagon, munching on a bit of bread and staring out into the prairie around them. They had agreed to stop on a small rise, affording them a panoramic view of the miles of dead grassland surrounding them.

Spirit was trying not to be scared, but a combination of the eerily rustling stalks and Bellirn’s tales of ferocious creatures had left him jumpy and nervous. Already he had nearly fainted when a slight breeze had rustled the grass in front of him. Despite the cool night air, his nerves were nearly shot, and it was all he could do to just stay still, trying to calm down.

Suddenly, something cold and wet touched his elbow. With a stifled yell, he leapt up and twisted about frantically, his bit of bread falling to the ground. An indignant chatter rose from beside his feet, and when he knelt down to investigate, he burst out laughing.

A small brown-and-white field mouse stood behind the wagon wheel had been leaning against, squeaking crossly at him. Evidently he had touched Spirit’s elbow with his nose, causing the boy to jump.

Spirit grinned at the sight of the tiny mouse glaring up at him, unafraid. Slowly, he reached a hand out towards him. “Hello there little fellow. Sorry about that, you just scared me a bit. It’s alright, come here. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The mouse sniffed Spirit’s outstretched hand for a moment, then scurried around it and out towards the prairie. “No, wait,” Spirit started to say, then stopped as he saw where the little rascal was really going. Stopping short in front of the last crumbs of Spirit’s loaf, the mouse grabbed a chunk of bread and began to eat.

Reaching over, Spirit picked up the remaining bread crumbs and placed them in his hand. “Come here, come here,” he whispered, waggling his hand invitingly.

After finishing his morsel, the mouse trotted over to Spirit’s outstretched hand. After cursory sniff, he twitched his whiskers and hopped up into the boy’s palm. Spirit giggled as the mouse’s tiny feet tickled his hand.

Once he reached the rest of the bread crumbs, the little mouse plopped himself down and began munching. With another quiet chuckle, Spirit leaned back against the wheel, enjoying the cool night air with his new friend.

After several minutes, Spirit felt rather than heard someone come and sit beside him. He looked over and there was Elissay, her knees pulled to her chest, gazing out over the prairie. She had a jacket on to ward off the cold, her cheeks and nose rosy from the chill. But somehow that made her even more beautiful.

Spirit cleared his throat, suddenly tongue-tied. “Hey,” he managed to say.

She looked down at his hand and smiled. “I see you’ve found a new friend.”

He grinned. “Yeah. I honestly don’t think he’s afraid of anything. Even after I nearly clubbed him with my elbow, he didn’t run off. He seems quite happy.” He held out his hand to her. The little mouse peeked up from his meal, twitched his nose derisively, and continued eating.

Elissay reached out a slim finger and petted him softly. “He’s so sweet,” she crooned.

After a moment, she sat back, her features serene. “I love the desert at night,” she sighed. “It’s always so peaceful. Nothing clamoring for your attention, no noise, just… peace.” She tilted back her head, admiring the stars.

Spirit followed her lead, letting his gaze wander the heavens. Each star twinkled with its own individual light, shining like the lamps of a city. A smile played across Spirit’s mouth as he stared in wonder at the landscape of the heavens.

Elissay’s arm came into his vision, pointing at a bright red star hovering over the heart of the desert. “See that star? The elves named it Balainon, which is ‘cursed’ in the old tongue.” Her arm fell back to her side, and Spirit noticed she was laying her back, hands behind her head. Shrugging, he lowered himself onto his back, pleased when he found it was a much more comfortable resting place than the wagon wheel.

Elissay glanced over at him and smiled, then pointed to another group of stars. “See those? That is Haldas the Warrior, the bravest elf who ever lived.”

Spirit frowned for a moment, then realized what she was telling him to do and broadened his focus. Immediately the warrior leapt out at him, and Spirit laughed in amazement. The stars the elves had chosen were perfect for the warrior, standing there, sword in hand. Spirit’s mind filled the outline with detail, until Haldas was clad in a shining cloak of starlight, a stern frown upon his noble face.

He laughed again, and Elissay laughed along with him. The she began to show him others, happy and sad, noble and wretched. He knew several from his childhood as well, and they lay trading tales hours into the night. Eventually though, they both fell silent, admiring the carpet of light.

After several minutes, Spirit became aware of just how close to each other they had drifted, caught up in the wonder of the heavens. Her hand lay only inches from his, and he had to suppress the urge to cover it with his own. She’s an elf for crying out loud! A bit old for me, he told himself harshly. She probably didn’t even love him. How could she?

He bit his lip. But the way she’s been looking at me… he thought slowly. Confusion ran rampant through his mind, throwing his convictions into disarray. What if she wouldn’t be so revolted if he touched her? Held her hand even?

Better not, he thought. Just to be safe. But happiness rode up inside his chest, inflating him like a balloon. With a cheerful sigh, he stretched and placed his arms behind his head, content to relax there for the rest of the evening.

Absentmindedly, he stroked the tiny mouse in his palm. The teeny fellow, having devoured every last morsel of bread, now sat curled up inside the calloused hollow of Spirit’s hand. Ever so often, his whiskers twitched, tickling the boy’s hand with the feathery tips.

After what seemed like hours, Elissay took a deep breath and rose up onto her elbows. “It’s late. We’d best get to bed.”

“Right.” Careful not to disturb his furry passenger, Spirit stood and brushed himself off.

She stood as well, sweeping the sand off her dress in one clean movement. “Thank you for staying with me. None of the others have ever done that before.” She smiled.

Spirit smiled back. “My pleasure.” Then he turned and crawled into the wagon, the mouse still in hand. By now, the tiny fellow had woken up and was looking about in interest, eyes shining in the darkness. Trying not to disturb Bellirn, Spirit searched about for one of the small boxes the elf kept all his books in. Finding one, he lined it with a small blanket and gently placed the mouse in its fluffy confines. Once free of the boy’s clutches, the small fellow trundled about his new home, pink nose twitching at everything. Spirit looked on with interest.

After several minutes of thorough examination, the little rodent spun about three times, shook his whiskers decisively, and curled up in a corner. Sighing contentedly, Spirit followed suite and lay back on his own bedroll. Wild, half-formed pictures ran past Spirit’s mind’s eye: Kelken drilling him with the proper ‘flick’ of the wrist needed to throw a curved blade; Conor laughing uncontrollably as they sprinted away from an enraged and sopping wet merchant; Elissay blushing as they stood alone in the clearing; aunt Keira smiling at him over a steaming pot of soup.

He sighed again. I may not like to admit it, but… I still miss them. With a small sniff, he rubbed his tired eyes and rolled over. I’ll see them again. Someday. And with that thought, he drifted off into a peaceful slumber, where he drifted among the stars for an eternity.

The following day was exactly like the first, if not hotter. Spirit dozed beside Bellirn, a straw hat pulled down over his eyes to protect his face from the merciless sun. During his occasional moments of consciousness, he noticed that the grass around them was thinning out, replaced by mounds of glaring white sand. Small animals scampered to a fro across the dunes, kicking up little clouds of white. Occasionally, Spirit would hear a faint roar off in the distance. Whenever this happened, Bellirn would tense up and stare across the sand, watchful as a hawk. It took him hours to calm down.

They made camp in the shadow of a skeletal tree. It looked so lost and forlorn, standing in the middle of the waterless wasteland, that Spirit felt sad for it. You’re just like me friend, he thought. Both thrust in an alien world. The boy shook his head, feeling suddenly overcome by weariness.

They had come across an oasis earlier in the day. At least, that’s what Bellirn had called it. To Spirit it was little more than a dirty little puddle. But the elves used what little water there was to replenish their water supply, cleaning the brown water with a spell.

“There are oasis scattered across the desert like pebbles,” Bellirn had explained, “Some of which lie along our route.” He marked these on Spirit’s map while the boy looked on in interest. “But there aren’t any in the heart of the desert, so we’ll have to ration the water while traversing that leg of the journey.” Spirit nodded, already queasy at the thought of drinking even less water than he was allowed to now.

Several minutes after they had stopped for the evening, Elissay approached Spirit and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face her with a determinedly nonchalant “Hey.”

She was wearing a set of clothes like the ones she had worn back in the clearing; close-fitting shirt and pants, cut off at the knees and shoulders to allow her more freedom of movement. A rough band kept her golden hair out of her eyes, which sparkled in the noon-day sun. Strapped to her back were two large poles, each as long as she was.

“How have you been?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Okay. The heat is hard to get used to.”

She laughed, a sweet, tinkling sound. “I have traveled this route for many years, and I am not sure if I will ever get used to it.”

Spirit smiled. “Does it ever let up?”

She shook her head. “No. Except for when the sun goes down, and then it turns deathly cold.”

“That’s funny, because Bellirn said the exact same thing. But I’ve never felt the cold.”

Elissay frowned. “Interesting… do you think it’s because of your powers?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Regardless, it seems to be pretty useful.”

“Yes. Useful…” she murmured slowly, as if to herself. Then she shrugged slightly and refocused on him. “So, do you still want to learn the art of staff-fighting?” Her tone became stern.

Spirit snapped to attention. “Yes ma’am!” he said teasingly.

A glint of laughter shone in her leaf green eyes, but her face was set in the same grim lines as before. “Well then, let us begin. Come,” she said imperiously. With soft, quick strides that carried her easily across the sand, she headed out into the desert.

“Wait a minute!” Spirit yelled after her, shock flooding his system. She turned to look back at him, but continued walking away.

What in the blazes was she doing, traipsing off into the desert like that? Who knows what fearsome beasts could be lurking, hidden in the brush? All traces of gaiety gone, Spirit trudged off after her, dragging his booted feet through the sand. Every step felt like he had Mr. Colin’s anvil attached to his feet, but he slogged doggedly onward.

Elissay, seeing him lagging so far behind her, stopped and regarded him with an exasperated expression.

When Spirit finally drew level with the elf maiden, he was doubled over, gasping for breath. Elissay said nothing, just stood there, hands on her hips. When he had finally quit gasping, she spoke.

“What was all the screaming about?”

Spirit looked up at her and said between breaths, “Bellirn said… we aren’t supposed to enter the desert… unless there’s someone with us.”

“Well it’s a good thing there’s two of us then, hmm?” she said curtly, the turned on her heel and started off again. Huffing and puffing, Spirit followed, desperately trying to copy the way she was walking. It was almost like she was sneaking, each footstep soft yet quick. Soon he was moving much easier, and he breathed a quick sigh of relief before hurrying to catch up.

Once they were walking side by side, Spirit continued their conversation as if nothing had happened. “But what if we run into a wild creature? Bellirn said that they are especially vicious—”

“No!” Elissay snapped suddenly, thrusting a hand into his chest. Startled, he stumbled back a step. Rubbing his aching ribs, Spirit glared angrily at his teacher.

“What in the name of gods was that for?” he yelled.

She spun to face him. “Whatever misguided tales you may have heard about this place, the animals are no more vicious and evil then you and I. Understand?” She glared back at him, her eyes hard.

“But Bellirn told me—”

“What does Bellirn know? Has he ever struck up a conversation with one of the beasts? Has he heard their deepest thought, their darkest fears?”

“They attacked him! What else does he need to know?” Spirit roared furiously.

A look of understanding passed over Elissay’s face. “Ah. So he told you the story.”

“And it was more than enough.”

The elf maiden shook her head. “Ah, but he did not tell you the whole story. You see, I was there that night. I was with Bellirn.”

Spirit stared at her, aghast. “What?”

“Let me tell you.” She sat down lightly on the sand, flicked a lock of golden hair over her shoulder, and began.

“It was at least three years ago, maybe more, and the five of us had just finished dinner…”

The fire was dying down to its last few embers, and the little group of travelers split off, each heading towards their own wagon to catch an early night’s rest. Elissay however, stayed in her seat beside the coals, gazing contently up at the blazing stars.

“Hey.”

She looked up. Bellirn was standing just a few feet behind her, his face hidden in her shadow. “Hello Bellirn,” she said, trying not to sound surprised. “What is it?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk. You know, to cool down after dinner.” The words came out very slow, each one enunciated carefully.

Her eyes narrowed to emerald slits. “Go for a walk? Bellirn, you’re terrified of the desert. Everyone here knows it.” She stood, and the shadows hiding his face fell away. Even in the dim light from the embers, he looked slightly embarrassed.

He shrugged, his stance shifting uncomfortably. “Well, mostly I just wanted to be with you.” 

Elissay stared at him. Just as he was about to turn tail and run to his wagon, she shrugged. “What harm could it do?” she muttered to herself. Aloud, she said, “Very well. Lead the way.”

All embarrassment forgotten, Bellirn turned and strode towards the boundaries of the camp. Smiling and shaking her head, Elissay followed.

The two walked for a while, chatting unconcernedly. The stars shone down brightly, illuminating their path. A cool wind blew across the plain, carrying with it tiny grains of sand that swirled about the pair like snowflakes. All about them, tiny nocturnal animals chirped and buzzed, their tiny voices joining together into a raucous chorus. But beneath the joyous noise, there hung a sinister layer of fear.

Distracted by their conversation, neither of the battle-hardened elves noticed the animals fall suddenly silent. The shadows drew in like predators, cloaking the pair in darkness.

From behind a massive dune, two eyes peered warily, glinting yellow in the night. Unblinking, they followed Elissay and Bellirn’s path across the sand as the pair drew closer and closer to the beast’s den. It shook its mane and growled quietly, hoping they would just leave. But they continued on, coming closer and closer.

Finally, he could not stand the invasion any longer. Quiet as a whisper, he crept onto the top of his dune and stared down at the intruders. His eyes narrowed, and a deep growl reverberated in his massive throat.

Elissay, laughing at a joke Bellirn had made, glanced over at sound. The laugh died in her throat, and she tapped Bellirn on the shoulder.

“Bellirn, don’t move a muscle,” she said as quietly as she could.

He turned slowly. Then he saw the creature perched atop the sand dune, and he froze, terrified.

The lion snarled at them, baring his razor-sharp teeth. Bellirn flinched, but Elissay heard him speak, his voice a low rumble.

Leave! He thundered. This is my territory.

Elissay nodded her understanding. Turning, she pulled Bellirn’s arm, encouraging him to leave.

But a strange fire had lit in his eyes, and he shook off her grip. “We can’t outrun it,” his whispered. “Stay back.”

“No, don’t!” she hissed. Desperate, she grabbed for his arm again, but he dodged her hand and started towards the lion, pulling his sword from its sheath.

“Bellirn!” she screamed at him, not daring to follow.

He ignored her and rushed the beast, yelling fiercely. Sword held high, he charged up the sandy slope. For an instant, the lion looked at him with what could almost have been pity. Then it was gone, replaced by a feral rage. Roaring savagely, the lion leapt forward, as if to meet him head on. Bellirn cut a deadly arc through the air in front of him, but the beast had jumped to his side. Whirling, the startled elf slashed at the lion. But the sand caved under his feet, and he lost his balance.

Quick as lightning, the lion pounced, plunging his claws deep into the thin elf’s back. Bellirn’s legs buckled, and he dropped without a sound.

The lion crouched next to him for a moment, the horrible rage already draining from his strong features. Gingerly, he opened his gaping maw and bit down on the elf’s torn shirt. Then he slunk down the slope until he stood in front of Elissay.

She swallowed, trembling, then knelt in the sand, her head bowed. With an almost human-sounding sigh, he set Bellirn’s body before her. I did not wish to hurt him, he growled. Raising his regal head, he looked out over the desert, towards the camp. Take your friend. Leave, and do not return.

Elissay nodded shakily, not trusting herself to speak. Gathering Bellirn into her arms, she stood and began to walk away.

Farewell, leaf-daughter, he rumbled after her.

“Farewell, lord of the desert,” she murmured. “And thank you.”

He dipped his noble head in acknowledgement, then trotted up the sand dune and disappeared into the shadows.

“So, after the lion had left, I bandaged Bellirn’s wounds as best I could and hauled him back to camp. After that, Bella and Lilten took over. While his muscles healed perfectly thanks to them, the experience left him scarred. In more ways than one.” The last was whispered almost as an afterthought.

Spirit rocked back on his heels, his head spinning. How could Bellirn have been such a blockhead? The lion hadn’t attacked until he did! And why didn’t he listen to Elissay? Spirit shook his head. Foolishness.

Sighing, he nodded to Elissay. “My apologies for my earlier behavior.” He smiled ruefully. “I guess I didn’t know the whole story.”

Elissay smiled at him and shook her head. “No apology necessary. You had no way of knowing. However, do not judge Bellirn too harshly. We all make mistakes, even our leaders.”

He nodded again, mind still abuzz. Then he looked up at her, curiosity burning in his eyes. “How do you do it? Is it magic?”

Elissay laughed and shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps it is merely a manifestation of my inner power, or perhaps not. Why?”

Spirit looked down ay his hands, embarrassed. “I guess I wish I could do it too.”

Reaching forward, she tilted his head back up and gazed at him tenderly. “Maybe you can. You just don’t know it yet.”

He grinned and touched her hand. “Maybe.”

They sat there like this for several moments, then he stood and brushed himself off. “Shall we continue?” he asked, offering her his hand.

She took it and he pulled her to her feet. As she brushed off her tight-fitting practice jerkin, Spirit couldn’t help but grin at how light she had been to him. This working out thing really helps, he though happily.

They continued into the shadow of a large sand dune where the wind had blown away all the sand, revealing the hard-packed dirt underneath. Once there, Elissay turned to face him, her face carefully neutral.

“Spirit.”

He stood up straight, surprised at the seriousness of her tone. “Yes Elissay?” he asked warily.

“You wish to learn the ancient art of the staff, which has been practiced among my people since the dawning of the world?”

A grin slowly spread across his face. “Yes.”

“And are you prepared to do what ever you must to finish your training once it has begun, to see it through to the end?”

“Yes.”

The elf nodded once, pleased. “Good.”

Kneeling, she grabbed the two staffs she had brought and threw one across the dirt to Spirit. He caught it in one hand, the hard wood stinging his palm. After bending it slightly, he grasped it in both hands and looked expectantly at his teacher.

Smiling slightly, she gestured. “Come Spirit. Show me what you can do.”

He gaped at her. “I don’t know how to fight with a staff! I barely even know how to hold it!”

Elissay shook her head, still smiling. “Nevertheless, it will show me where I need to start and how capable you are.”

So it’s a test, he thought grimly. “Very well,” he said aloud, and grasped the length of wood firmly. After a deep breath, he sprinted across the circle towards Elissay, a raw yell bursting from his throat. Holding his staff high above his head, he brought it down hard at the elf’s head.

But she wasn’t there anymore. As his staff swung uselessly through the air, he glimpsed Elissay standing to his left. He saw the faintest hint of a smile before her blow sent him crashing to the ground.

“Impressive strength,” she said disinterestedly as he lay groaning and clutching his head. “But your strategy leaves much to be desired. Your strike must be fast, and your mind must be faster. Try again.” Stepping back, she twirled her staff around her head and waited.

Spirit sighed. I am going to be bruised tonight. Resignedly, he stood and faced her again.

And so they practiced, for hours, until shadow of the dune was cast far off to their left, and both were covered from head to foot in dirt. Wiping the sweat off her brow, Elissay stowed the staves on her back and turned to Spirit. “Not bad for your first day.”

Spirit nodded, unable to actually speak. His whole body ached with bruises and burns from the sand. One bruise lay flat across his chest, sending lines of fire lancing through his lungs whenever he attempted to breath.

Elissay frowned, apparently just now noticing his injuries. “Are you alright Spirit?” she asked hesitantly.

In spite of himself, Spirit began to laugh. It started out weak at first, barely more than a painful chuckle, but soon he was doubled over, hands on his knees, shaking with laughter. Elissay started giggling with him, until they were both lying side by side, clutching their ribs.

After the gales of laughter finally subsided, Elissay turned to look at Spirit. “What was so funny about what I said?”

The human boy shook his head, still grinning. “Just the fact that I’ve been getting whacked with sticks for the past two hours, in the hottest place in the entire kingdom, and you had to ask if I was alright?” He chuckled. “Although, I suppose my being incredibly tired may have had something to do with it.”

She smiled. “That may have been a small factor, yes.”

They lay there for a while longer, enjoying the cool breeze rushing across the desert floor. One by one, the stars began to appear in the inky black sky, and Spirit let his mind wander. Soon he was soaring among them, not thinking, just being, at peace for the first time in many days.

Eventually he noticed Elissay shivering slightly beside him. He sat up, wincing as his body protested his earlier treatment. “I’m so sorry Elissay! I forgot you can’t be out here after the sun sets.”

She shook her head defensively, her sandy hair enveloping them in a dusty cloud. “I’m fine, silly human,” she said. Then she began shivering even greater than before.

He glared at her in mock annoyance, but she just smiled wryly. Shaking his head, Spirit stood and once again offered her his hand. “Should we start making our way back?” he asked teasingly.

Eagerly, Elissay grasped his hand and he pulled her to her feet. Once she was on her feet, he started to let go, but she held him with both hands. A large smile spread across her face. “You’re so warm!” she sighed happily.

An idea suddenly came to Spirit. It was so outlandish he was sure Elissay would kill him if he even dared to think it, but he could no longer control himself. Gently, he pulled her towards him until their bodies were touching. She did not resist, and soon he had his arms around her. She sighed into his chest, and he grinned. “Better?” he asked.

She nodded into his shirt. “Very much so,” she murmured contentedly.

“Then let’s go.”

And together, master and pupil started back to the campsite.