Part 1

  The Northern Desert

  The desert wind blew into Carlo’s face, like looking into a hot oven, it came on in an oppressive wave. The dust and grit from the dunes followed, causing him to squint and hold up a hand in a vain attempt to block the onslaught.

  Carlo turned his back to the wind and pulled a water bottle from his pocket. He felt a creeping despair as he shook it and heard nothing. Empty.

  The despair deepened as he reflected on his situation. Two days from any known civilization. Deep into a desert that was unknown to him and forbidden to his people. Carlo knew nothing of it even from rumors.

  And now, no water. He also had not eaten since before he left the village.

  The despair was not the only thing creeping up on him, weakness brought on by lack of food and hydration was contributing to his slow, plodding gait.

  Carlo looked ahead. Visibility was now down to only a few paces. He replaced the empty water bottle and started forward again. His village was two days behind and even if he was able to travel the distance without water, his people would likely kill him on sight. So with certain death behind, the only course was to move forward even into the unknown.

  Carlo plodded on, stumbling through the sand as the wind gusted and the dust swirled. His throat cracked with thirst. He likely could not even speak if he tried. The dust clogged his nostrils and was packed painfully around his eyes. At one point he’d wished for some goggles or eye protection of any kind but thoughts of anything but cresting the next dune died before they were fully realized.

  Suddenly ahead, above the swishing of the sand and dust he was able to make out the outline of a pinnacle of rock. It was barely distinguishable from the color of the sand but its angular shape gave it away. A mirage. That’s what Carlo thought. He’s seen so many in the last couple of days. Or was it weeks? He no longer felt he could accurately distinguish intervals of time. As those thoughts swirled through his head, he stumbled over a crusty dried out bush, crashing roughly to the ground. His reaction time was so poor that he was unable to put out his hands in time to catch himself.

  Carlo lay face down in the sand for an indeterminable amount of time. Had he lost consciousness? He didn’t know.

  It was hard to breathe and he mustered up barely enough effort to raise his head. He sucked in a quick lungful of dry air. The wind had stopped. Carlo found himself half buried in a dune. He paused for a moment and then summoned the strength to pull himself free. He felt his head swim as he scrambled to his feet. Carlo closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths waiting for his head to clear.

  Carlo opened one eye to take in the scene. The dust had cleared and the valley he was standing in stretched out to a long distance in front of him. Not far away Carlo saw the rock pinnacle he remembered from before his fall. It rose to a great height and was framed by the blue-gray sky.

  Carlo took a hesitant step toward the pinnacle. He seemed to need to test the solidity of the ground with every step. His knees felt weak and he felt as if either of them might give way with even the slightest pressure. The dizziness did not completely abate. Carlo was forced to breathe through his mouth as his nostrils were stuffed full of sand and he felt unable to generate a forceful enough breath to clear them.

  The pinnacle was a good deal further than he first estimated. As such, Carlo stumbled and lurched his way through the valley until the sun was high.

  The heat had returned with a vengeance and Carlo’s throat was so parched as to be almost as closed off as his nose. He was limited to taking just a few steps before having to stop to rest and let the dizziness ease. He knew instinctively that this day would be his last but he was determined to reach the pinnacle as if it was calling to him.

  The sun had reached its zenith when Carlo could go no further even though he was just steps from his destination. His lower limbs failed him and collapsed in a heap. He was about to resign himself to oblivion and let himself slip into darkness when he realized a curious texture on his cheek that was certainly not sand. There was something else there. It was a large blurry brown mass, out of focus due to the dryness of his eyes.

  From somewhere from within, Carlo pulled another measure of strength enough to push himself to his elbows. He blinked his eyes to try to moisten them and attempted to focus. It was a mound of fabric, a rough brown cloak of the type favored in the desert wastes. Carlo clawed at it, at first with little effect, his dexterity lost along with his strength. Finally he was able to pull the fabric toward him, revealing a desiccated corpse.

  The sight of the desert blasted skin, wrinkled from heat exposure, thinned by time, the eyes sunken and opaque, the muscles motionless, sent a shock through him, the burst of adrenaline overcoming his weakness and he drew back reflexively.

  The man was dead and had been for some time judging by the condition of the body. Carlo found himself wondering why no desert animal had carried it off. It must have been buried in the sand, too deep to be noticed even by the most sensitive desert creatures until the sandstorm had unearthed the grisly scene.

  Carlo’s next act was to laugh almost hysterically. It didn’t last long, the sound was out of place in the stark environment.

  Then he saw salvation! Barely peeking out of a pocket in the cloak was the top of a water bottle!

  Carlo crawled forward, all fear and disgust at the proximity of the corpse temporarily suspended. He pawed at the flask pulling it into his grasp. The sound of sloshing liquid reached his ears and Carlo emitted a low moan through his parched throat. His eyes wanted to cry in relief but his body was too dehydrated to comply. It took a painfully long time but through supreme effort he gripped and turned the twisted-on cap of the dirty container until, at last, it came free. Surprised, Carlo nearly dropped the flask. He spilled a drop or two of the precious contents as he raised the vessel to his cracked and scabbed lips.

  Never had he felt such rapture! It was water! Stale and warm but it flowed into his mouth and he had drunk half of the contents before he stopped himself. His breathing was heavy. He felt a bit of strength returning even though in the back of his mind he knew it was merely the shade of relief not the real thing.

  Carlo cast a quick gaze at his surroundings. There was a small area of shadow beginning to grow at the base of the pinnacle only a couple dozen paces away. Carlo took another swallow of the life-saving liquid from the flask and clumsily replaced the cap.

  He gripped the corpse’s collar and with incredible effort dragged the body toward the shadow. It took what felt like an eternity to cover the distance and the shadow had grown modestly by the time his back was pressed against the stone pillar.

  Carlo unscrewed the cap from the flask and took another swallow. It was joyous even though he was sure he could taste grit suspended in the liquid. He didn’t care. It was water. For the moment his earlier despair had been supplanted by a glimmer of hope.

  Carlo sat resting for a moment in the shade of the pinnacle. He enjoyed the relative coolness being out of the direct sunlight and allowed a thin smile to cross his still painful lips. He patted the corpse on the head with a small measure of affection. He finally was able to speak albeit in a low, crackled tone, “Thank you, my friend.”

  A few more minutes of rest was followed by another, smaller, swallow of the water. Then, having recovered a slight bit of strength, Carlo turned his attention back to the body. He almost immediately recovered a second flask that was also full. A quick taste revealed that it was water. Carlo couldn’t believe his good fortune! He would have cried but again his dehydrated state would not allow the tears to flow. But he did take another drink from the flask before replacing the cap and setting it aside.

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  Encouraged by his lucky find Carlo proceeded with a thorough search of the dead man. The man had only two other possessions, a thin, oval, metallic device strapped to his right wrist and a metal cylinder of a little more than two hands in length. It was also a piece of technology with which Carlo was not familiar. He slipped both devices into his own pocket. Removing the dead man’s cloak —reasoning that it would offer more protection from the sun than his current garment— he put the cloak over his shoulders and raised the hood over his head. It did not bother him at all that it had just been on a dead man. He leaned back against the pinnacle and took another drink.

  Carlo must have fallen into a slumber. The next thing he knew the shadow had lengthened and the sun was starting to get low in the sky. He took a sip from one of the flasks and stood up, for the first time without his head swimming.

  Carlo took a walk around the pinnacle. On the far side he found a shallow opening and some scattered rocks. It would have been generous to call it a cave but it would offer some shelter. Carlo knew that the dead man was going to attract the attention of the desert scavengers sooner or later.

  There wasn’t enough time for him to get adequate distance before it got dark and he himself would begin to attract predators. There was only one solution he could think of.

  With some effort Carlo cleared some more rocks out of the opening. He dragged the corpse into the cavity and used the rocks to wall himself and the dead man up inside.

  Carlo had left his village with very little but he did have a small chemical light, he shook it vigorously to combine the chemicals that gave off a soft yellow light with no appreciable heat.

  Surprisingly Carlo was not unnerved sitting in an enclosed place in such close proximity to a dead man. In fact, as he sat in the impromptu shelter he had the macabre idea to strike up a one-sided conversation with the corpse. He shook his head and laughed off the idea.

  Carlo’s laughter echoed grimly in the small space and that stopped it cold.

  In the new silence Carlo heard the wind picking up outside. He had the vague thought that perhaps the wind would carry his scent and that of the body away. Maybe the predators wouldn’t come after all.

  Carlo turned his attention to the items he’d taken from his grisly companion. The device from the man’s wrist was unknown to him. As he turned it over and over examining it his finger brushed one of the controls. It spoke!

  Carlo was startled by the voice at first but he’d heard of things like this that could save a person’s words and then bring them back again just as they’d been spoken. He listened until the device stopped and then brushed the control again, the words came back just as before. He listened more carefully but understood only a few words, not enough to make out the message.

  Carlo thought that it sounded like the Eastern dialect. The Easterns had dealings with the Sky-travelers, those who could use their technology to go to the stars. It made sense, after all, that the sky-travelers would certainly have devices that could hold their words. Maybe this dead man was himself a sky-traveler.

  Carlo paused at that thought. What would he have been doing so far out in the wasteland, so far away from a center of technology? Or maybe he was simply a thief and stole these items from a skytraveler?

  Carlo smirked in spite of himself and posed the question to the dead man, “So, I don’t suppose you will tell which it is? Skytraveler or thief?”

  Carlo laughed again and then trailed off into the silence once more contemplating the wind outside the rock wall. He picked up the lighter of the two flasks and took a small sip. He replaced the cap and put the water away. Out of sight, out of mind. That water needed to last as long as possible.

  Carlo picked up the cylinder next. It was heavier than it looked. One end was closed and had a metal ring attached to it. The other end appeared to be open. The cylinder itself was smooth and of uniform color. The metalwork was of a fine quality that he’d never before seen. There was what appeared to be a single control about a third of the way down from the open end. At least Carlo thought it could be a control based on his experience with the wrist device. That is if they were of contemporary technology.

  Carlo really didn’t think about his next action; he just brushed the cylinder’s control. As he did there was a snap-hiss with a flash of green light from the open end of the cylinder! Carlo dropped the device as if it was on fire and threw himself backwards away from it. Of course the space was so small that the cylinder merely fell at his feet, the green light vanishing as quickly as it had been produced. He'd earned a sharp crack to the skull in his haste but now Carlo stayed as still as he could. His heart was racing and eyes were wide and intensely focused on the cylinder laying on the ground. He half expected it to explode.

  It didn’t.

  It was then that Carlo saw a hole in the rock. It was about the same diameter as the cylinder and Carlo reasoned that it had been the light from the cylinder that had caused it. “It’s a weapon!”

  Carlo picked up the object gingerly, careful to avoid touching the control and keeping the open end pointed away at the same time. He held the device in both hands and brushed the control again. The green light lanced out with the same snap- hiss as before and was gone as soon as his thumb left the control. Carlo looked to the wall. A second hole had appeared.

  Carlo exhaled and pressed the control, quickly letting off. A third snap-hiss-flash left a third hole in the rock. He smiled with satisfaction.

  Inspiration struck. Carlo pressed and held the control. There was a snap-hiss as before but this time the light stayed, extending into the rock.

  Carlo’s amazement froze his entire frame as he stared at the sight. Slowly he moved the cylinder backwards and the light finally came out of the rock. He could see now that the shaft of green only extended a short distance from the cylinder, only about the total length of the short staff that he and many of his peers occasionally carried for protection.

  Curiosity overcame him and Carlo reached his left hand toward the light as he kept his right thumb firmly on the cylinder’s control. He held the left hand close. Not a lot of heat if any. Carlo extended the cylinder toward the rock face again until it touched and then turned it in a quick circle. The light cut a neat circular mark in the rock. But how? With no heat?

  One thing he was sure of, it would not be smart to come into contact with that light.

  He lifted his thumb off the control and the light vanished.

  Carlo slumped to the floor of the shallow cave, his fatigue suddenly catching up with him. In moments he’d drifted off to sleep, with the cylinder still in his right hand.

  He woke to a sudden commotion. Several of the rocks protecting Carlo from the night crashed inward. The front paws and snarling snout of a sandwolf protruded into the cavity. Its eyes were wild and it snapped its jaws while trying to force its way in.

  Carlo shuffled backwards as far from the creature as he could but could see that it was pushing the impromptu barrier down as it came through the opening it had made.

  Carlo, on the edge of panic, raised the cylinder pressing the control. The light shot forth piercing the sandwolf through its left eye. The wolf dropped dead instantly.

  He scrambled to his feet keeping the cylinder lit and holding it between himself and the crumbling barrier. He steeled himself for the next wolf to come through but it did not come. The silence of the night returned, broken only by an occasional gust of wind. Strange, Carlo thought. Sandwolves hunt in packs. It seemed unlikely that this one would be alone.

  Carefully he went to the opening and looked out. The green light from the cylinder cast a strange poll on the scene but no other wolves were within his sight. He listened intently but heard nothing but the breeze sweeping the surrounding dunes. Off in the distance he saw the first yellow glow of the sunrise on the horizon. He must have slept longer than it had seemed. Perhaps this was another stroke of luck. Sandwolves usually hunt at night. As day approached the chances of a second attack would decrease.

  He looked down at the dead wolf. Although not the most appetizing prospect, it would provide some nourishment and Carlo had not eaten since before he’d been forced from his village. Hunger pangs suddenly reminded him of that.

  He checked his belt for the hunting knife he knew was not there. He’d been forced out with only what he’d been carrying and the knife had not been on him when the villagers came for him.

  Carlo looked askance at the cylinder and its green light. And then set to work using it to butcher the sandwolf. It was an ugly and messy business as he tried to use just the tip of the light to do his cutting. It took longer than he’d hoped and the sun had fully risen by the time he was done.

  He ate a portion of the meat raw since he had no means of producing a fire in the first place and no apparent fuel for it in the second. It might have turned his stomach under normal circumstances but this was hardly normal and Carlo was starving.

  He rested for a while after the meal, letting it settle into his system. It occurred to him that he was going to have to eat as much as he could. He had no way of preserving the meat and no way to really carry it. In addition carrying raw meat may attract unwanted attention from predators.

  The sky was clear for the moment. Carlo consulted his compass. There was no point in trying to return to his village. He knew nothing about the lands to the south but it was still as good a direction as any given his limited supplies. He reasoned that if there was a settlement within two days to the south he might just make it alive. It was the first glimmer of hope he’d had in a while. It felt good.

  Carlo went at the wolf meat again, eating his fill. He took a drink, draining the first flask. Now he only had one. He replaced the rocks, walling off the skytraveler. When he was done, Carlo paused for a moment to give respect and thanks to the man whose death may have saved his life.

  With the sun now on its way to midday, Carlo set off to the south. He dragged the remains of the wolf for a while and left it a fair distance from the pinnacle. Hopefully the predators and scavengers would find the wolf and ignore the grave of the skytraveler.

  As he walked Carlo nursed the spark of hope. He might make it. To where he didn’t know but he looked forward to finding out.