Once upon a Spring morn

Celeste asked no more, for she was yet shaken by Roel’s revelations with regard to armies in war, and she knew that he was deeply troubled by his experiences in battle. Oh, my love, my dearest heart, do you see blood on your hands? What was it you said? That good men had died on both sides? Oui, that was it. Until that very moment I had never thought of the enemy, the foe, as having good men as well. Non, but mayhap I have an ex-cuse for never thinking such, for all I have known as an enemy are Redcap Goblins and Trolls and Bogles and other such vile beings. . Yet I wonder: are Redcaps ever good? Trolls? Bogles and the like? I do know that some Goblins are pleasant and well-mannered and kind: House Goblins for one. Barn Goblins for another. And I have seen-

“There!” called Roel.

Celeste looked where Roel pointed. In the near distance directly ahead two swift doves flew toward what appeared to be a great jumble of boulders. They spiraled ’round and down and disappeared among the huge rocks.

“We should find water there,” said Roel, and he urged his mare into a trot, with Celeste following after.

Downslope they went, into a broad basin, in the mid of which there rose up the enormous pile of massive stones. As they approached, they could see enshadowed openings here and there, dark slots where the gigantic boulders rested against one another. “We’ll have to be wary,” said Roel, “for we know not what might reside within: asps, vipers, scorpions, jackals, even desert lions.

If it’s a large beast or a den of snakes, I deem the horses will give warning.”

“Would doves likely go into a nest of vipers?” asked Celeste as she strung her bow.

“Mayhap,” said Roel, cocking his crossbow and laying a quarrel in the groove. “Who knows what birds and other creatures will do for a drink?” Celeste smiled. “Well, my love, we are about to find out, n’est-ce pas?”

“Indeed we are,” replied Roel.

They rode to the foot of the great mound of monstrous boulders, rising up out from the barren plain much like a rocky tor. Roel said, “Cherie, I would have you wait with our horses while I go within, for who knows what might come running out? And I would not have the animals bolt.”

Celeste sighed in exasperation, but then she smiled and said, “And just what should I do if it is you who comes running out?”

Roel grinned and said, “Flee!”

“If so, perhaps I’ll leave you a horse, but then again, maybe not.”

Roel laughed and dismounted and handed Celeste his reins. As Celeste looped the lead about the forebow of her saddle and nocked an arrow, Roel took a lantern from one of the packs and struck the striker and opened the hood wide, and with his crossbow in hand, in through one of the great crevices he cautiously stepped.

Moments later, the horses flinched and snorted in startlement and Celeste jerked up her bow as, in a thunder of wings, birds fled the jumble, desert crows crying and doves whistling as they hammered away. Off to the right a jackal ran out from the rocks and through the scrub, yipping in its flight.

“Roel!” called Celeste. “Are you well?”

“Oui,” came a faint cry. “There is water herein. . and scorpions.”

Celeste took in a deep breath and muttered, “Oh, my love, take care.”

Finally, Roel emerged. “A deep pool, not a spring.

Likely from rain.”

“Rain?”

“Oui, Celeste. Mayhap monsoons bring it, or perhaps the winter. The rocks protect the mere from the sun.” He gestured back the way they had come. “Out there the water is sucked up by the sand, but here in this basin I think there must be a good layer of stone below, forming a wide catchment.” Roel smiled and said, “There are some boulders in the pool, and that is where the birds roost, protected as if by a moat from the scorpions.”

“Can we safely water the horses?”

“I believe so. Those poisonous creatures scuttled away from my footfalls. We cannot camp here, though, for sleeping among scorpions would be most painful if not fatal.”

Celeste glanced at the sun, now on the verge of setting. Dismounting, she said, “Then let us water the animals and go, for I would find a camp ere the light completely fails.”

Leading the mares, the geldings following, into the crevice they went, the horses balking somewhat at the narrow confines, but eventually the smell of water overcame their fears.

That night Roel and Celeste camped on the rim of the basin, a safe distance from the scorpion den.

The next morning, once more they let the horses drink their fill, and they made certain that their waterskins were full to the stoppers, and then they set out, again riding due duskwise.

Across barren ground and past clusters of sere vegetation they fared, and now and then they crossed down and through rock-laden wadis, ancient tracks of fierce water flow, now dry under the desert sun. On they rode and on, and in early morn a warm breeze began to blow at their backs, growing hotter with every league, and they cast their cloak hoods over their heads against the glare of the day. And once again they came to long, rolling dunes, and into the sand they passed.

With a now-torrid wind from behind and as the sun reached halfway to the zenith, they topped a dune and a league or so distant down a long slope of sand and across a flat lay a walled city, with tall pylons standing beside a wide gateway, past which a long row of massive columns led into the metropolis beyond. The buildings within were made of stone, or so it seemed, and some bore flat roofs with massive cornices, though others seemed to have collapsed.

Roel shaded his eyes and above the lash of wind he called, “I see no movement.”

Celeste frowned. “Perhaps it is abandoned,” she said, raising her voice to be heard.

“Oui, so it seems.”

“Mayhap this is where we’ll find the gray arrow,” said Celeste.

“We can only hope,” replied Roel, “as well as hope we find water therein. Come, let us ride.” With their cloaks whipping about, they started down the long run of sand, and Celeste said, “Think you this is the place marked Spx on the chart?” Roel grunted and shrugged, and on they fared.

They had covered perhaps half the distance when the day about them darkened. “What th-?” Roel looked up toward the sun and then back. “Celeste, we must fly!”

The princess glanced ’round; behind and hurtling toward them came a great dark roiling wall looming miles up into the sky and blotting out the very sun.

“Ride, Celeste, ride!” cried Roel, spurring forward.

Celeste whipped her mare into a gallop, the gelding running after, and down the slope and toward the city she and Roel and the horses fled. And rushing after roared a boiling wall of sand that would flay them alive should it catch them.

“Yah! Yah!” cried Celeste, driving her mare to even greater speed, and over the barren ground they now flew. Yet the storm was even faster, and for every stride they took it gained three.

Celeste drew even with Roel, and he called out,

“Shelter behind the stone ramparts.” And on they careered, the horses now running flat out, and Celeste, with her lighter weight, slowly drew ahead of Roel.

Oh, Mithras, I can’t leave him.

But Roel, as if he were reading her thoughts, cried,

“Ride on, Celeste, ride on!”

And so on she rode, as the great black wall of the storm hurtled after, now but mere heartbeats arear, now but mere moments ere it would roar o’er all.

Before her lay the gateway, flanked by two tall stone statues, a king and a queen, perhaps, their feet buried in drift, sitting on stone thrones beside the massive pylons; and as she flashed past and through the opening, she thought she saw the figures turn their heads toward her, but in that moment the stygian wall slammed into the gateway even as she veered leftward out of the slot to take refuge behind the high rampart; and the blast of sand screamed past and above and shrieked in rage at missing her, or so it seemed.

Celeste sprang down from her mare, and pulling the horses after, she headed for the base of the wall for better shelter. Finally she reached the stone bulwark, and there she stopped.

In the darkness she looked about.