Chapter 7

"What kind of an idiot puts a desert at the end of mountains?" Although Tracer is racking his brain remembering something from his studies of geography about the leeward side of mountains, but what exactly that pertained to he can't remember anymore.

Right about now you are probably wondering if the sun rises in the east and sets in the west which signifies the spin of the world, then how can the southern side of the Dandum Mountains be the leeward side. That's because Tracer and I have a tendency to explain things in as simple terms as possible. He always figures it is because he is a little simple minded, even though his thoughts and actions can be quite complex.

Anyway, the sun actually rise in the east southeast and sets in the west northwest, and the Dandum Mountains run more west southwest to east northeast than they run just east and west. See what I mean. As the narrator for this story, I just thought I'd stop and explain that, because I didn't want you to think Tracer is a total idiot. Let his actions prove that, not his words.

As Tracer gazes out at the desert and as the sun is setting, he begins to hope in earnest that fifty klicks is only about two leagues. He knows it is wishful thinking, but he thought he'd give it a try anyway. "Is the sparkling sand beckoning to me?"

Ram seems as confounded as Tracer is. Neither of them really wants to be the first to venture out into the golden abyss. In the beginning of his journey Tracer thought to travel to the desert in his country, but after seeing this, he decides he would much rather visit the sea.

Well, unfortunately they don't have a real big choice in the matter. Tracer urges Ram forward and he reluctantly goes. Tracer isn't surprised, for in the short time that Ram has been with him he has never backed down from a challenge.

As the night progresses, Tracer starts to realize that a major danger is going to be confronting Ram and he soon. Come sun up there will be no shelter to hide in. Besides a few silly looking stubby trees that seem to have spikes sticking out of them, and a few odds and ends of plants, there is no shelter at all.

It's funny how hindsight is twenty-twenty. If Tracer had known what was in store for them, he would have taken the tent the mercenaries had with them. It wasn't big enough for Ram to get inside of, but maybe he could have spread it out as a canvas between a couple of those silly looking trees and at least blocked out some of the sunlight. As it is, he still has his little canvas he used to block the falling rain, but it isn't going to give enough shelter for the both of them. They may have to start traveling day and night until they reach a safe place, or until they're out of this damn desert.

It seems like a reasonable idea to travel in the day, at least that is until they have traveled about three hours into it. It isn't just hot, it is scorching. The sand has to be hurting Ram's feet, and it is only going to get worse as the sun rises higher and higher. Tracer cuts some cloth he took from the mercenaries and ties them around Ram's feet like socks. He doesn't actually know if it will work or not, but he has to try something. When he notices the sand is getting deeper he dismounts and begins walking himself. It only takes an hour of trying to fight his way through the slipping, sliding and sinking sand that he becomes exhausted from the effort.

His throat is parched. It feels as if he has swallowed half the desert, but he can't take the chance on indulging himself with their water supply because he doesn't know how long they'll be stuck out here. By the time night comes, his lips are chapped and he is sunburned. At first Tracer had taken his coat off because of the intense heat, but he soon realized that was a mistake and put it back on. Plus he made himself a hat out of the remaining cloth he had taken from the mercenaries.

It only takes about an hour after sundown for the desert to cool off enough to be bearable. He doesn't even bother to look for a place to rest, he just plops down on the ground and tries to catch his breath. Ram stands there looking as miserable as Tracer feels. He gets back up and takes all the tack off of Ram and wipes him down.

With the discovery of the river and the acquisition of the mercenaries' water flasks they have a lot of water, so Tracer takes the risk and gives Ram as much as he thinks is safe. To over-indulge him might make him sick, or at least Tracer remembers hearing something like that in his studies. Tracer then takes the sock-things off his feet, but he will put them back on come sunrise.

Earlier Tracer figured to follow the river to civilization, but as soon as they got out into the desert the damn thing turned east and disappeared. Tracer guesses he should have continued to follow it. It would have taken them in the wrong direction, but it's not like they are on a time schedule. Once again hindsight is easier to see when it is right in front of you.

As he is quickly falling asleep, his thoughts go back to what he just said about not being on a time schedule. Then Tracer finds himself thinking of the war going on back in his country, and the few friends he made in the mountains and their fight for survival.

"Am I on a time schedule?" he wonders dreamily as he falls asleep.

Ram awakens Tracer in the middle of the night. Ram is freaking out and making all kinds of noise. Tracer jumps to his feet, which are bare because he thought it was a good idea to let them air out, and he draws his sword. Tracer looks around for the enemy but sees nothing. Then he notices something slithering on the ground.

"What a funny horse I have." he thinks out loud.

Now Ram has ridden into battle with him against packs of wolveris and bands of mercenaries trying to kill them both, and he met an angry ogre without batting an eye or faltering in his step. Yet, here now, Tracer finds that he is extremely scared of a snake. Tracer looks at him with disgust and goes to kill the snake.

He gets about two paces from it and stops in his tracks. This thing is huge. It's not very long, maybe a pace long, but it is thick and it is pissed off. Tracer isn't about to try and get close enough to kill it with his sword, so he starts looking around for some rocks. Not a single rock to be found. "Stupid desert." He quickly strings his bow and shoots an arrow at it. Finally, after having spent almost all his arrows the snake just slithers away.

"That was the strangest snake I've ever seen."

Since the thing kept on the move, Tracer figured he'd shoot his arrow just in front of it and the snake would run right into his arrow. Every time he'd just miss his mark. It isn't until after he has spent a dozen of his arrows that he realizes the snake is slithering sideward. By the time Tracer gets his pattern figured out the snake gets bored and slithers away.

It doesn't comfort Tracer any to know that that thing is still out there somewhere. Next time he will just use his sword and hope he is quick enough to get it before it gets him. Tracer doesn't know what kind of snake it is, but he is sure it is deadly.

When Tracer turns around to look at Ram he can swear he is now looking at him with disgust. Tracer figures he is not too happy about that thing still being out there somewhere either.

The morning comes quickly and it is filled with the promise that this is going to be another miserable day. Tracer gives Ram some of his oats and a little more water and he chews on his tasteless field rations and washes it down with a little water.

"Here we go again."

Having rested the night, the day doesn't seem to take as bad a toll on them as before. It is still very hot and draining, but come the next nightfall they aren't as near death as they had been the night before. As comforting as that is, Tracer still knows they are going to be in a world of trouble if they don't get out of this soon.

Ask and you shall receive. Seek and you will find.

About two hours into the third day they come across a city. It isn't a city of wood and stone buildings; it is a city of tents. There has to be over fifty tents in all, and they are the exact same color as the sand. Now Tracer knows why he had not seen it until they were right on it. Tracer really isn't prepared to begin his contact with the people of this continent, but they have to have supplies and hopefully some information. Tracer is pretty sure this isn't the capital city of Revarde, so he is hoping the danger won't be as grave. Wrong.

Tracer doesn't get within twenty paces of the city before he sees twenty riders in black coming out towards him. Tracer holds his hand up as a sign of peaceful intentions, but it doesn't do any good because they all draw their long curved swords. They surround Tracer and one of them is screaming at him in a language he doesn't understand.

Tracer holds his hands out in the fashion that says I'm clueless, "I can't understand you."

The fierce warrior sitting atop his beautiful white horse signals to one of his men, and that man comes forward and takes Tracer's sword and bow. Tracer is hoping that his willingness to cooperate will cause them to relax. Even with his most sincere smile they don't seem to care.

Tracer is led into the Tent City and ordered down off Ram, and then taken into a tent that has a pole sticking out of the ground in the middle of it. They tie him to that pole and leave him there.

Tracer figures he has been in there for hours before anybody comes in to talk to him. It is an ancient looking man dressed in a white robe and wearing a white hat that finally does. His hat is almost like the same kind of hat that Tracer made out of the piece of cloth and wrapped around his head. His is much nicer, though. Through his long white hair and beard Tracer can see wisdom and power in his dark eyes.

He starts talking in his language, which Tracer still can't understand.

Tracer speaks, "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot understand you."

Without missing a beat the elder begins speaking in Tracer's language. "Why have you trespassed into our land? Do you really think my people will continue to allow your kind to push us further out of our homeland and kill our warriors." The accent is thick, but different than the mercenaries.

So the danger isn't from the mercenaries or black army soldiers, it's from the fact that they think Tracer is a part of them. He is glad he didn't put on one of those mercenaries' uniforms.

"Sir, I am truly sorry for your people's plight, but I mean you no harm. In fact, I believe your people and mine share the same dangers."

He looks at Tracer as if he isn't buying any of his lies as he says, "Who then are your people?"

"I'm from across the Dandum Mountains. My land is called Liladintum. About a year ago my land started to be besieged by a war brought on by some creatures called Wolveris, mercenaries dressed in black leather, and soldiers dressed in black uniforms. I have come to your land in hopes of finding a way of stopping the evil before it spreads throughout my land."