THE SUTEK DESERT

FROM BROKEN DREAMS

CHAPTER II

“...at last unfettered servants fledge

to meet the dark horizon’s edge...”

Leiro Nvwnle Dynde XIV

1:2:1:6/5, III:IX

The sand was inescapable. Through the long years Tirrok had spent in the Sutek, his every meal had crunched with grit, and the slightest breeze scoured at his cracked skin. But five days ago, the first sandstorm of winter tolled Tirrok’s twentieth haze with the Sutek people, and tonight’s feast would mark the end of his childhood. A new man of the tribe, he could leave his adoptive village and put the desert at his back for good.

As the brilliant disk of first moon waded through the eastern sands, Tirrok ducked into the tent where he’d trespassed for two decades. Seated on the hard-packed sand within, the clan elder who’d consented to raise him waited, his stern bronze gaze more hawkish than usual in the fading light.

“Grandfather,” intoned Tirrok with a slight bow of his head, staring at the fire and waiting to be dismissed. Instead, the old man gestured for his adopted ward to sit before him, and Tirrok dropped to the sand, anxious at the unusual behavior.

Renowned as Jokkel the Guardian, the tribal elder had once led an ancient band of warriors sworn to protect the sanctity of the desert. He’d completed the perilous entrance rite in the summer of his fourth haze and left his village to be raised as a sacred Dua Dara mage. Only the rare child succeeded as Jokkel had, venturing alone into the deep desert with a mere three days to tame a wild pegasus foal. But he’d abdicated his position after decades of leadership to adopt the infant Tirrok, found still breathing in a local well. “Tonight, you are a man,” came his stoic preface. “You choose to leave?”

In Sutek culture, each new man announced what he would do with his life at the Feast of Haze. Jokkel broke with tradition to ask before the ceremony, and though Tirrok had made no effort to conceal his travel preparations, it left the youth faltering. “I...”

Clearing his throat, Tirrok began again. “A newman’s choice is his own,” he dodged, hoping the sturdy reminder would be enough to save him. The first decision of adulthood brooked encouragement from the tribe, and Tirrok knew he’d sound petulant if forced to explain his exodus.

“A man’s choice is forever his own,” rejoined Jokkel, and Tirrok’s heart sank at the impending discussion. “He executes with conviction and declares without fear. You choose to leave?”

Begrudgingly, Tirrok affirmed, “Yes. I do.” In all his years, he’d never seen Jokkel flout the smallest of traditions, and he struggled to discern how it served the elder now.

“Will you return?”

Unnerved and trying his best not to sound indecisive or ungrateful, Tirrok hedged, “That, I have yet to choose.”

His aging guardian nodded his approval. “Well said. When you do come to choose – and if your choice is to return – I would speak with you then.”

“About what?”

“A choice you cannot make yet.” Outside, the last edge of the sun vanished beneath the distant peaks in the west, and the village horn sounded the start of the feast. “You bring Tiena with you?” Tamed in the sands before Tirrok’s fifth haze, Tiena was the youth’s own pegasus foal. On the last day of Tirrok’s trial, a rare summer sandstorm delayed him overnight, and when he’d returned with Tiena beneath him, the Dua Dara ruled against inducting him into their ranks. Even as a boy, he’d suspected their true reasons had to do with his lack of lineage.

“Only death will part us,” Tirrok declared, his golden eyes blazing at the suggestion he might abandon his loyal companion. “Tiena carries my soul within her wings, and I would sooner leave my own body behind.” After his rejection by the sacred Dua Dara, he’d tried to return his pretty foal to the wild, but the irrevocable bond between them refused to let her leave. Through Jokkel’s expertise, Tirrok raised her into a fine beast, but he’d been branded the village freak. To the people gathering for the ceremony, Tirrok would forever be their beloved elder’s ill-bred pet and greatest disappointment.

Jokkel nearly smiled. Standing to attend the feast, he sanctioned, “Again, well said.” As the sparse praise settled over him, Tirrok quelled his indignation and rose after the old man. “I have a gift for you, provided you can vow to open it only after you’ve chosen whether to return.”

“I – sure,” choked the youth, startled out of dusting reddish sand from his white travel robes. “Not until I decide whether to return, grandfather.”

From his own white robes, Jokkel produced a hide-bound book, its pages old and edges stained. It bore no title or decoration, strapped shut with leather cord – he’d spent the past two nights braiding a trigger spell into the twine. “Sever the ties and I will know,” he informed his ward, handing the book over. “Unless you return within a month of its opening, I’ll know your choice was made today.”

With that he left, and Tirrok turned the old book in his hands like his fingers could learn to read its concealed pages. Outside, the celebration commenced without him, the whole village feasting and toasting the new men, but within the tent he’d regarded as a prison for so long, Tirrok stood stricken, tears in his eyes.

He realized then that he would come back, though perhaps not soon and probably not the same. He wanted to slice the cord on the spot, but Jokkel would sense it and think he’d lied. No, he chided himself, shuffling outside where Tiena stood waiting, his bedroll lashed to her bronze underbelly. These are choices best made one at a time. Tucking the book into a bag of provisions tied beneath her wings, Tirrok patted his feathered horse and pointed his sandals toward the feast to greet the beginning of his adult life.

“...when lost is found with silent ears

the found is lost to darker years...”

Sohli Nlyndwnvi Rovikya XVIII

1:2:2:3/5, III:IX

Tiena wouldn’t last much longer. From the moment they’d ascended into the D’jed Mountains, the thin atmosphere strained the updrafts she created to fly, and her magic dwindled fast. Spellbound by the dazzling white peaks vaulting into the heavens, Tirrok hadn’t noticed the subtle change in her air currents until a gust ripped through the envelope she formed around him during flight. Hours from the temple where he’d planned to seek guidance, Tirrok faced landing on the snowy roof of the world before they plunged helpless from the sky.

Sinking lower by the minute, he spied a barren ledge jutting from the ice and signaled for Tiena to descend. She banked for a moment but corrected, another frigid blast slipping through her shield to sting his uncovered cheeks. With the might of the D’jed stirring fear in his veins, Tirrok surrendered to her instinct. She had never led him astray, while his negligence would soon cost their lives.

Resigned to whatever fate brought them, he cinched his robes tighter and buried his fingers in Tiena’s golden mane, steady cold leeching into his envelope. As they flew, Tirrok’s thoughts drifted to the book beneath his mount’s right wing. If they landed before Tiena’s magic ran dry, he’d have just enough time to read Jokkel’s parting gift before they froze to death.

They banked without warning, skimming tight along a cliff face. Caught in Tiena’s sputtering updrafts, snow flurried through Tirrok’s envelope and melted into precious water before his eyes. Awestruck, he caught a few flakes on his tongue and tasted the waters of the mountain that would kill them.

Stark against the snow ahead, a scar in the rock face emerged, bordered by the derelict columns of an ancient temple. Though long abandoned, it once framed the cave entrance visible from the air, which Tiena made for as the last of her magic gave out.

Straining her wings to convert their plunge into a turbulent glide, she careened from the sky and crashed atop the rubble of the temple roof. Mere yards from the cave, Tirrok clawed through the chest-high snow, wheezing in gulps of thin air that refused to slake his need for breath. Once they climbed out of the wind, he collapsed onto the polished stone floor and fell to gasping until he forced his lungs to quiet.

When Tirrok lurched back to his feet, Tiena nickered and helped him retreat deeper into the cavern. Angular runes, once gilded, adorned the masoned walls, but the cold drove him past them without close inspection. With every step, a dull thunder echoed louder, and the masonry gave way to natural rock that narrowed into a vaulted tunnel. Glimmering light beckoned from within, and Tiena led him past a small shrine at the tunnel entrance, toward the dancing gleam.

At the tunnel’s end, a wall of shimmering water greeted them, churning down behind a grand archway cut into the stone. More angled runes formed an inscription upon the archway, illuminated by the bright cascade. As Tirrok gazed up in wonder, the ancient carvings shifted, curving and converging into the script of the Sutek people:

Beyond the might of Mother’s Gate

Resides the Great Hall of Kingard the Valiant,

Noble Thane of the Rishi & Savior of Allana whole.

“Where have you brought us?” he whispered, and Tiena sank her nose into the rushing falls. The mighty Kingard once held counsel in the realm beyond this falling spring! With shaking hands, Tirrok gulped down all his water and refilled the two skins he carried, marveling at the force of the icy torrent. Steering Tiena’s snout towards him, he gazed into one of her shining eyes. “You knew?”

There came no answer, but his heart warmed as it did whenever the bond rang between them. Intuition blossomed, and he realized her ideas as if they were his own – they would cross the waterfall. From the moment they’d met the D’jed this place had called to her, and the two of them were meant to pass through Mother’s Gate.

Reassured, Tirrok let his eyes close, and the bond sealed around them once again. He led Tiena back from the archway about twenty paces and mounted; they charged the gate and plunged into the downpour.