The Cursed Sun

I awoke to find the sun blazing overheard, scorching the sand around me without mercy. From its position, I could tell it was some time in the mid-afternoon. My face felt red and raw from exposure. My throat was also aching with thirst, so I took a long drink from my canteen. I chided myself for foolishly falling asleep since I had lost valuable traveling time. The mare was near the shore of the lake, her head drooping drowsily. My body ached as I got up to see her. I gently rubbed her nose. She whinnied in appreciation, rocking her head back and forth.

  “You’re a good horse,” I said soothingly. “I’m only alive because of you.”

  I then filled my canteen from the lake. I pulled myself onto the mare and gently prodded her forward at an easy pace. From my perch on the saddle, I could finally see the Wasteland in more detail. Though at first it looked like any other desert, it was different in minute ways. Unlike the land I had just traversed, there was no life at all – not a single bird flew in the sky and the ground was free of the occasional lizard or snake. It was also free of vegetation, without a single cactus or Joshua tree to be seen. As I rode along, I found that the Wasteland was also deathly quiet with only the wind and my horse breaking the oppressive silence. It felt if I had entered into a graveyard. Even with the heat of the baking sun, I shivered from an unknown fear. The nightmare stories of this place had suddenly become very real.

  Shaking off this bad feeling, I pulled out the map that Kalam had provided me. By the looks of it, I had to head north-west to hit the opening of the valley. If I headed too far north, I would miss the entrance all together and run into the walls of the valley, but if I strayed too far to the west, I would be lost in the desert. Sadly my only compass was the sun above. Kalam had warned me that it was dangerous to descend into the valley using the walls, so I had to find the entrance. The sides of the valley were steep and treacherous, which made them impassable for horse and man alike. Traveling across the length of the desert was also impossible since not enough water could be carried to supply a man and a horse. There was fresh water somewhere deep in the valley, so that was the only route I could take.

  I rode on for some time as the sun slowly dropped in the west, burning bright in my eyes. As night came, the Northern Star became my only navigation. Having already rested for the day, I continued on through the chill of the night. Living in the desert had long immunized me to the rapid temperature difference between night and day, but I still wished I had brought along something warmer to wear. As the leftover heat of the sun dissipated from the sand, I ended up using my wool blanket to cover my head and body.

  Riding in the silence of the desert is an unsettling experience. Beyond the sound of the horse hooves striking sand and the squeak of my saddle, there was nothing. I felt like a sailor lost at sea - alone and forgotten by the rest of the world. The unchanging rhythm and noise started to lull me to sleep, causing my eyes to droop with weariness. I soon found myself sleeping several times, each moment of unconsciousness broken by my head slumping forward, hitting the mane of the horse. Too tired to continue, I finally slid off the horse and fell into a heap on the cool desert floor. I went to sleep.

  Feeling something warm nuzzle my ear, I awoke with a start. It was the mare, her brown eyes looking into mine. The sun was now high above, turning the ground into a furnace once again. Getting up, I drank some water, sharing this meager resource with my horse. After a quick breakfast of jerked meat, I was up on the saddle again, looking for any signs of the valley entrance.

  I don't know what caused me to look over my shoulder - perhaps it was the nature of the Wasteland that made one cautious - but in the shimmering waves of the desert floor, I thought I saw a dark figure riding behind me. It looked like the stranger who had stopped the soldiers from pursuing me. Pulling on the reins, I halted my own mare to take a better look at the man. This time I didn't see anything since the distortion of the heat across the sand made everything look like a waving black ocean. But I still couldn't shake the thought that I was being followed. However, as I rode along and checked over my shoulder, I never saw that figure appear again.

  It was some hours later that I noticed a black smudge on the horizon ahead, slightly to the left of my intended direction. As I continued, I recognized this blackness as smoke rolling high into the sky. Something large was burning. I started to ride that way. Perhaps it was loneliness or just idle curiosity, but I foolishly decided to investigate the cause of the fire. It would have been better if I had minded my own business.

  The expanse of the smoke grew larger with each stride of my mare. As we came closer to the source, I slowed her down to a walk. There was no reason to be incautious in the Wasteland since this could be a Mutan trap or some other unnatural phenomenon. There was a ridge ahead, the smoke billowing from behind. Along this ridge were several footprints and indentations in the sand where a large group had laid in wait. I dismounted from my mare and then cautiously made my way across the burning sand. Upon closer inspection, the footprints here were oddly shaped. They certainly looked like no animal I had ever seen. They were much like the foot of a man, but very narrow. The toes had also left long scratches in the sand, indicating some sort of claw.

  That disturbing sight was soon forgotten when I looked over the ridge. Below was a line of a dozen burning wagons. With their voluminous cargo space, they looked like the sort of wagons used by the Traders. There were no signs of their owners or even the horses that once pulled them. The goods that were once were inside has been scattered across the desert floor. I gulped nervously as a tingle of fear crawled down my spine. It looked as if the Mutans had attacked this caravan, but what had happened to the people and the horses? I decided it was best to move on before I was discovered.

  I ran to my horse and practically leaped onto the saddle. Grabbing the bridle, I kicked her flanks and off we went at a gallop. Looking behind, I saw nothing to warrant my haste, but the feeling of fear still stayed with me. I really was expecting too much out of this poor beast, so I grudgingly decided to slow her down to a canter.

  To my right, I saw a little gully that dipped below the desert floor. Since there were no signs of any tracks, I decided to take this way as a precaution to remain unseen by any potential observer. Feeling smug with my decision, I had only ridden ten feet into the gully when suddenly, in front of me, the sand exploded. There was no chance to react, and before I knew it, a hidden net was lifted from the ground. It wrapped over the mare and me, immobilizing us from any further movement forward. My horse neighed in terror, and started to kick and buck.

  With the mesh of the net covering my face, my own panic was beginning to rise. I rolled off to my side, freeing myself from the saddle and stirrups. Falling through the open side of the net, I find myself lying on my face in the gulley bottom, free of the trap that had been sprung. I jumped to my feet, where my eyes were greeted by a horde of vicious creatures rushing at me. Everything was moving too quickly. I had little time to examine these Mutan features, but the wicked black blades were enough for me to decide my next move.

  With a tug, the unfamiliar sword was ripped from the scabbard hanging from my belt. I clumsily swung the blade down on the closest beast, splitting its misshapen skull in two. The blood that came out was as black as night. But that killing did nothing to stop the other Mutans from continuing their attack on me. I swung at another and my blade struck home, but I never saw if I had killed the foul creature because I was now overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Before I could do anything else, I was tripped and soon covered by a mass of bodies. They had a fetid stench which was worse than Ewark's trash pit. But I still fought, trying to leverage my strength against their superior numbers. But there was nothing I could do and soon a blow to my head stopped my struggle. I passed out.

  Chapter 8