As we’d been taught during our military training at Crestfallen, we remained still and allowed our eyes to scan the far horizon and then work their way nearer, and from side to side. We focused on nothing. The eyes know what to do. The smallest movement would draw them, as would any color out of place.
Thinking or trying to find those things decreased the natural abilities we all have. After the broad search, we narrowed what we were after and reexamined our entire surroundings. We found nothing to concern us. Water was no longer a consideration despite our travel in the driest part of the Brownlands.
Kendra said, “I’ll take the lead since we have plenty of water and I’m full of energy.”
“Enough water to last a day,” I cautioned her automatically.
She spurred her horse ahead before calling back over her shoulder in an amused tone, “When I need more, I’ll just have my big brother, the mage, create a little rainstorm over me.”
There was no proper answer. The jest held too much truth. I rode with my eyes piercing the back of her neck with my anger. She should have had the good manners to flinch.
The plants grew fewer and smaller. Only the hardiest survived, and most of them looked like another day without water would kill them. I was tempted to sprinkle a little water on each one we passed. The ground became rocky, a thin layer of coarse sand over black rock. The mountains to the west were hidden by rising waves of heat.
Not that it was hotter than nearer the lake. There was nothing to provide shade or absorb the sun, and despite the darker color of the sand, the waves of heat seemed to strike the ground and bounce directly up at us.
I climbed down to relieve myself beside a bush that looked like it could use a little water, and before climbing back into my saddle, the bottoms of my feet were burning from the heat of the sand. The horses had thick hooves to protect them, but well before midday, my little ugly horse stumbled for the first time.
I hoped it was an accident, an oddity. Not long after, it did so again. The ground didn’t appear any rougher. But it was a warning we couldn’t ignore.
“Kendra, we need a place to hold up until evening. My horse is worn out.”
Instead of arguing or questioning me, she nodded. We started following a thin trail where animals or men had gone before. Whatever had traveled our way may have done so years or generations ago. Without rain, deserts are slow to change or erase the passage of others.
“Who made this trail?” I asked.
“No idea, but it does not matter.”
“Why?”
She turned to me as if I’d asked another stupid question, which it turned out I had. She said, “Because a trail comes from one place and goes to another.”
She was right. Trails exist for reasons, even old ones. The ground became more broken, and we reached a dry riverbed. The banks of either side were taller than a man on a horse and they were steep, yet the trail went down one of the few places where access to the bottom was an easy ride. Across the riverbed, perhaps a hundred steps away, the path continued up the other bank.
Kendra turned off the trail to our right along the dry riverbed and to where the bank was even taller and steeper, almost a small cliff. At the base was an old campsite. While it was in direct sun, a small sliver of shade was already growing on the east side. Before long, there would be enough to shade us.
Kendra dismounted and said, “Nice of somebody to leave this for us.”
“In this heat, I need more sleep.”
She nodded, but said, “We all do. First, we need more water. Mine’s all gone, and the horses must be parched.”
I looked at the sand at my feet. Any rain would soak down before it could become a puddle to drink from. We needed a hollow in solid rock like last night.
Kendra said, “Look at the old river bottom near the center. It’s a different color.”
We walked there, and she knelt. With a hand, she scooped at it and found it hard. “Clay. Baked hard.”
“But not a hollow. Water will just flow away.”
She looked behind us where the clay mixed with sand. “We’ll make a little dam. The horses can drink from that. So, can we.”
Her idea was simple and would work. Kendra had a habit of doing that. Most of us tend to complicate issues. We pushed sand to the hard middle where it was baked hard by the sun, into a crude circle. I sat beside it and called on the little nearby water, concentrated it into a mist that engulfed us in a short time. As before, a slight breeze caused the vapor droplets to collide and combine, and finally to fall as drops.
The horses smelled the water and arrived on their own as the first drops struck the ground and sank in so fast, we watched them hit, turn the clay a darker color, then it faded back to the original.
I pulled more water, and the number of drops increased. The ground held onto the water better, and more fell. Under our little cloud, water finally rose in the circular dam we’d made until a finger dipped into it wouldn’t touch bottom.
The horses had already lapped up, snorted, and sucked all they wanted. However, I noticed they didn’t leave the mini-storm to return to the heat of the direct sun. Their coats were soaked, cool water sluiced off them in sheets, and to me, they looked as contented as we were.
Wet hair matted Kendra’s smiling face. She finally knelt and used her lips to suck the surface of the water. I did the same. It had a gritty texture and tasted of dryness if that makes sense, but overall it was some of the best water I’d ever tasted.
Kendra said, “I love having a mage for a brother.”
“I am not a mage.”
She ignored me. “Do you know what would be really nice? I mean, this is good but better? Well, I’ll tell you. If you could slow the rain to a small drizzle, just a few tiny drops here and there, and keep the cool mist around us while we sleep. And maybe add a mug of cool white wine.”
“Using magic makes me tired so you’ll have to wait for the wine.”
She sat still, enjoying the diminishing rain as I slowed it to a cool mist. “Why haven’t you heard from Anna?”
“I’ll try her now.”
I reached out and found her mind unreceptive. It was dark in her mind and wouldn’t allow me entry. She was sleeping. Interesting. I gently prodded and poked. Nothing. I considered trying to suggest a bee stinging her arm but didn’t for two reasons. First, it might not work. Second, it might.
Waking to a bee sting was not the ideal situation for either of us. But her sleep, as little as I could tell, was peaceful, so I assumed our friends were doing well. They must have made the initial escape and hadn’t been captured, or Anna would not be comfortably asleep.
“She is sleeping. They were probably up most of the night.”
“Sleeping? In the daytime? Are you sure?”
I knew what she was asking—but she didn’t want to say the words out loud. Was she alive? “I can touch her mind, but it’s like talking to a deaf person. She is there. I sense no fear or pain, so assume she is sleeping.”
“Can you wake her and find out?”
I paused. “I don’t know. Doing that might really scare her, I mean, waking up with someone in your head.”
She said, “You’re right, you’re right. Don’t try. Can you tell when she wakes?”
“I can check back with her until she is awake.”
That settled the conversation. The gentle rain had come to a stop and was now more of a fog, so I added a little water to it, and a few small drops fell on us. Kendra looked up, her wet hair plastered on her face, along with a wide smile. “This is nice.”
I said, “I wonder what it looks like from a distance?”