She walked away and faded behind the trees, as if she had never been there at all. Ing made his way back out of the Forest of the Mother and resumed with his journey.
Ing decided to stop in a local town to find out more about Dharma. He found a traveler walking the streets and decided to question him.
“Dharma, eh?’ the man laughed. “I can tell you about it, alright, young man. I’m a bit of wanderer meself. Been to many places in my day.” The man pulled out a map and pointed with one long finger. “Dharma is just a bit northwest of here. The mountain people can be a bit firm, though, if ya know what I mean. They don’ just let anyone go there. There are guards everywhere. Even if you don't know it, they're there watchin' ya.”
“Thanks for your help,” said Ing. He could not get away from that strange man with his weathered face soon enough.
He left the town and started heading northwest. As he drew closer to Dharma, the landscape became more desert-like. Ing knew it was very close because of the map the peculiar fellow had shown him. The Desert of Thieves was the name given to it.
The desert Sun blazed high in the sky above him, draining him of his strength. He had to fight to keep traveling.
As he was heading through the desert, he spotted three Illusionists talking to a man with a bandanna across his face; surely he was a thief of the desert tribe.
Ing quickly ducked behind a sand dune to listen in. He had never heard an Illusionist speak before. He was interested to hear what they sounded like, but equally afraid of being within such close proximity to them. There were three of them, with two standing idly beside the thief in silence. They appeared to be taking turns, with only one Illusionist speaking at a time. There was something menacing about the way they communicated; it was as though their minds were empty of thoughts, operating strictly under a set pattern, programmed to do nothing but mindlessly exercise the rule of Slithzalien. Ing wasn’t sure he could take all four at once. He would have to be quiet.
“We would like to inquire about the treasure of Shamsake,” one Illusionist said. “Surely, you must know of it, being a member of the tribe in these lands.” The Illusionist’s voice sounded cold and quiet.
“Of course I know of it,” replied the thief. “What of it?”
“Do you know of its whereabouts?” said another.
“Who’s asking?” responded the thief, defiance in his voice. Just then, a burning sensation came in his leg and he dropped down to his knees. The first Illusionist stared at him intensely through the depths of his cloak.
“That is none of your concern,” said the third.
“I’ve heard a girl has it,” said the thief through grinding teeth. “Leave it to a girl to get Bolsee’s Rod.”
He's heard a girl has it? thought Ing, perplexed. How could word of that have possibly reached this far already? What devilry is at work here?
Apparently, the thief’s use had expired. A brilliant flash of light illuminated the area, and Ing quickly shielded his eyes. When he next gazed upon the area, in the place of the thief was a mere statue, an expression of terror cast in its stone face.
“There may be people nearby watching us. We must report to our master,” ushered one of the Illusionists.
“Wait,” said the first Illusionist. “We should take this man with us.”
“We could deliver him to his tribe, send them a message” said another.
“I do not think so,” said the first. “I have a feeling he will make a good trophy. We will bring him to our master. He may be of use to us in the days to come.”
Two of the Illusionists grabbed the man encased in stone and made their departure, trailing closely behind what appeared to be the leader. Ing got out from behind the sand dune when he was sure they were out of sight. What he had just seen had terrified him. He was not aware that Illusionists possessed powers outside of their ability to conjure fire. He shuddered at the idea of being trapped inside hard, cold stone. Setting off once again toward Dharma, he found that the thought lingered in his mind for some while before he was able to finally distract himself from it. As he drew upon his destination, the disturbing image shattered, with him being taken aback by the sheer majesty of the sight ahead. The Horda Mountains.
Chapter 11: Dharma
Ahead lay the Horda Mountains. They were an impressive formation, rising far and wide out of the earth. The surface looked ancient, like Alma had said, possibly hundreds of years old.
“I’ve made it,” said Ing.
A long, steep pathway led up the side of the mountain to an almost invisible doorway. Ing didn’t see any guards, but he knew they must be watching him because of what the man had told him. He looked around for any signs of onlookers; he found none. Surely these people were good at keeping themselves in isolation.
Ing started heading towards the mountain path, but was cut short.
“Don’t move a muscle,” said a nearby voice.
Ing spotted an archer on the side of the mountain, covered in camouflage that looked like it was fashioned from material straight from the mountainside. A man ahead started walking down the path and stopped several yards from Ing. He was a broad shouldered man with a very serious look on his face.
“What business do you have in Dharma?” were the man’s first words, clear and direct.
“My name is Ing. I am on my way to the Lady of the Lake. Alma Lifetree sent me here.”
An air of silence took place and Ing
