Vantra stared out the wagon’s window at the muddy landscape below the orange-rocked rise, chin in hand, grumpy in character. Not even the delicate shadows of late evening could soothe her spirits.
A four-day jaunt had turned into an eight-day slog.
In normal circumstances, the caravan would take the Black Road to the east, skirt the Dryan Lakebed, and hit the Sun Road. Once riverbeds, the desert populations now used them as wide, easy-traveling roads.
And those roads had reverted to their origins; rivers.
Rils ended up leading them nearly back to Grindal Oasis, before taking an elevated path south through hillier, muddier desert, to Sunbright Temple.
At least the round-about way meant the Finders had no idea where they went to avoid the flooding and muck.
The flight from the camp had proven less than exciting. Her cowardly self insisted that was good, but in some ways, she wanted a confrontation with Nolaris. She wanted to prove to him that she had merit, that her Redemption proceeded as Redemptions did, that she would find Laken’s essences and make him whole, despite his objections—and she would do it without the backing of him or the Finders.
Instead, the traders moved their wagons a smidgen, Red and Rils attached the makeshift runners to the bottom of the wheels using magic and chains, set the brakes, and they slid into the middle of the night.
Rayva and Salan became their distraction. Nuban, as caravan leader for Nolaris, had tromped up to Rils, puffed up about their needing Finder permission to leave, and deflated as soon as he spied the vulfs. He scampered to his wagon and slammed the door shut; they planted themselves in the center of the Finder’s circle, panting and pacing.
The traders found the event intimidating until Kenosera told them about Nuban’s extra trips to the Fields. Agreeing that his fright had more to do with previous bad behavior haunting him than any threat the vulfs posed, the traders relaxed and even laughed about his retreat.
Not that they planned to corral the mini-Joyful for Nolaris's pleasure. The Finders had nothing that equaled the berry bushes to bargain with.
Dedari peeked as well. “It’s so lush,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen the desert like this, even after the first rains.”
Out of the mud rose sprigs of green. Vantra had no idea what plants they were, but they had a bright tone that shone against the duller orangy brown of the earth. So many reached for open air that the expanse of desert looked like a well-kept lawn. The scraggly bush leaves had changed from dry and brittle to dark green and moist, the cacti were bloated and blossoming, displaying bright purple flowers on the prickly ends of arms.
The rivers, the rivulets, all had small yellow blooms on the banks, creating a cheerful view juxtaposed against the rushing, muddy water racing past them.
“I think it’s the magic,” Lorgan said. The four nomads looked at him, while Mera and Tally nodded together.
“The desert was a magic-scarce place—until the, um, what did you call it again, Lorgan?” Mera asked.
“Emblematic Collapse.”
“Emblematic Collapse. Then it rained, it snowed, which took the lingering magic out of the atmosphere. The earth soaked it up with the water, replenishing reserves that have been dry for thousands of years.”
Lorgan solemnly regarded them. “When the dryans dammed up the lake you now call Dryan Lakebed, they not only held onto water, but magic. Since living beings in the Evenacht need both for survival, the areas outside the lake became a desert in both.
“Skip to our time. The emblems the dor-carous and his people triggered had a lot of syim magic in them, and that magic needed to go somewhere. The rain and snow brought it to the earth, and the earth, denied for so long, soaked it up.” He pulled at his lips and cast a look outside. “If enough pools below ground, we might see a return of some of the green.”
“That would be weird,” Kenosera said.
With the mini-Joyful, strange things happened all the time. Lorgan should have plenty of other opportunities to jot down extraordinary occurrences. Had he written of Red’s stink spell yet?
The sliding door between the bunk and the driver’s seat slid open. “We’re coming up to Sunbright,” the ghost said before shutting it.
Vantra bowed her head, hoping no one noticed her nerves. Sunbright was an elfine religious center dedicated to restoring the Den’s ancient rainforest. She could not say she had many successful interactions with similar Sun acolytes, alive or dead.
One of her mother’s greatest rivals was Tilhara, an elfine priestess from Grand Sela, a port city on the southwestern coast of Talis. The beaches there provided numerous sunbathing opportunities for those wishing to honor Sun with tanned skin, something Winsun did not have. The priestess thought the center of Sun’s worship should change to Grand Sela because of this, and made bid after bid to the Sun Order’s authorities to do so.
Each denial earned her interviews with the media. She complained bitterly that she encapsulated Sun’s Blessing over and above High Priestess Kasoris and spoke of prejudice against elfine adherents by Keelsland hierarchy. Her mother would invite the same reporters to Spiral Sun Temple and show off the brilliance within—one that put the illumination of the Sands to shame.
What if Sunbright’s members held a similar lack of respect for Keel acolytes?
The wagon slowed, then rocked to a stop. Her essence fluttered, and her disposition fell further. She knew she needed to wear Passion’s badge, but a part of her wanted to don the one for Sun. Just because. She looked down at her breast, smoothed the red stitching, followed the linked ovals with the tip of her finger. She did not think the symbol represented Verryn, and wondered why he used it. She had read the tale about it being an ancient Keel symbol of desire and fervor, but she never got that sense from it.
And Verryn was not a loverly sort, like a bard in a ballad. He seemed more like a lone swordsman on an adventure, who accidentally attracted fellows along the way.
She frowned—did she see light beneath?—and unhooked the Passion badge. The Sun throbbed crimson in warning.
Tagra frowned. “What is that?”
“My Sun badge,” she whispered. “It’s a warning that someone who wants to harm me is near.”
“The Finders can’t have made it here already,” Lorgan said. Vantra moved so he could lean out the window, looking towards their destination.
“There were too many washes and gullies full of water, with no bridge,” Tagra said. “Even if they tried, they would have spent a day or so trying to find a crossing. I trust Rils, when he said the way we went was the fastest.”
Tally rose. “I’ll be back.” She drifted through the wooden wall.
Vantra sat back, her mind racing. How fast could a caravan prodded on by a furious Nolaris travel in these conditions?
She heard the crunch of boots, and the door opened. Vesh, carrying Laken and with Fyrij on his shoulder, stepped inside. Rayva and Salan whuffled at him before nosing the portal closed.
“Well, it appears we have another Finder group to worry about,” the Darkness acolyte said as he sank down next to Mera.
“What do you mean?” Mera asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We’re at the entrance gate,” he said. “And you’ll never guess who’s there.”
Mera squinted at him as Laken growled.
Vesh half-grinned. “Someone with a blue glow in their palm. Looks like we’re meeting another Knight of the Finders.”
