Chapter 5: Now I cross these shifting sands
----------------------------------------
In the vast deserts of disparity, our fates intertwine, not by solitary paths but as a woven tapestry of many lives. It is our shared struggles, not just our dreams, that forge our destiny.
Book of the Immortals
----------------------------------------
Our sand skimmer slices through the desert, sails snapping taut in the searing wind. I stand at the prow, eyes fixed on the Amenion vessel approaching fast across the dunes, its white sail vivid against the blue sky. My gut twists with dread - out here there’s nowhere to hide if they think we’re thieves or smugglers.
The twins are huddled together in furious whispers. Lika still appears to be reading, but she’s biting her lip, fingers clutched tight around the covers of the book. We're all aware of the stakes. We’ve all heard the wails coming up through the sewer grates by the Sovereign’s tower.
We slide over the dunes, the patched sail straining in the desert winds. Beneath my feet, the deck creaks and groans, protesting against the shifting sands. As we fly across the desert towards the enemy skimmer, the pure exhilaration eventually rips my fear away. I’ll fight when the time comes, but until then, there’s nothing I can do.
Olly clutches the railing beside me, his knuckles white. But he forces a pained smile. “Even if they don’t kill us, do you think this pile of kindling will make it to the island in one piece?”
I chuckle, the sound whipped away by the roaring wind. “Not likely. But she’s gotten us this far, eh?”
Olly’s smile fades as his gaze drifts back to the white sail. “Never pictured this new life would start getting hunted down like a jackal.”
I clasp his shoulder. “Balen’s a prick but he must have a plan. I don’t think he’ll kill us before selling us out.”
Olly nods, a bit of his old excitement returning. We watch together as Balen guides our skimmer towards the Sovereign’s vessel. Despite my words to Olly, my chest tightens. What is Balen thinking?
But then the white sail turns, angling away from us in a slow, graceful arc. Balen steers us along in their wake, neither pursuing nor fleeing. Just...following.
Unease ripples through the crew. Balen won’t acknowledge our questions. We’ve spent every coin and called in every favour to secure a spot on this run. Whatever awaits on that impossible floating island, we desperately need it to be valuable enough to buy our way off the streets.
Our skimmer, a creaking vessel of wood and patched sails, battles against the relentless desert wind. Each gust hits us like a physical force, pushing the skimmer to its limits. I feel the deck buck and shudder beneath my feet as we climb each towering dune, the wood groaning in protest. The relentless sun beats down upon us, turning the deck scorching hot.
As we reach the peak of a particularly steep dune, the skimmer launches into the air, a brief moment of weightlessness overtaking us. My heart lurches into my throat. For a fleeting moment, we are suspended in a world of blue sky and endless sands, a sense of surreal freedom engulfing us. Then gravity reclaims its hold, and we slam back onto the sand with a jarring impact that sends shockwaves through my body.
The crew reacts with a chorus of gasps and grunts. Lika drops her book and grips the railing so tightly her knuckles turn white. Jarek is cursing, not even stopping to breathe, his composure broken by the skimmer's reckless descent.
I throw my head back and laugh, a sound lost to the roaring wind. This is living. The skimmer continues its wild journey, each drop from a dune's peak sending our stomachs lurching, a relentless ride across the sprawling desert.
Balen, with a navigator’s instinct, steers us with unwavering focus. The sail fills, bulging like a beast’s lung, catching every bit of wind. We careen down the dunes, the skimmer tilting, sand spraying up in our wake, sparkling in the sun like a trail of golden dust.
It’s intoxicating, a heady rush of adrenaline. As we hurtle down another steep incline, the angle so sharp I think we’ll capsize, Balen's expertise shines. He adjusts the tiller with precision, keeping us on course, the skimmer responding like an extension of his will. The wind screams in our ears, a wild symphony.
For the first time, I understand why Balen risks the guards’ wrath with his crazy schemes, why his eyes lit up when he showed us this bucket of scrap.
This unforgiving life in the desert? Worth a hundred lives serving as just another lackey in the city. Out here, chaotic and beautiful, you’re limitless, unbound by anything. This is freedom. The city streets will never be enough again. Not after this. One day I will have a skimmer of my own, I swear. The desert wind sings in my ears, beckoning me onward.
The ancient island ruins hang far above us, impossibly suspended. What secrets do they hold? Riches? The power over life and death itself? We crane our necks to take in the sheer spectacle. Jagged cliffs, toppled spires...this place seems to occupy its own reality, untouched by the world below.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
It’s as if the Sovereign himself had sheared off a mountain peak, flipped it upside down, and placed it in the sky. Except, if Olly’s got it right, the Island is older than the Sovereign, which is hard to believe because the Sovereign has protected Amenion from the beginning. Even the oldest of Olly’s books rarely mention a time before the Sovereign.
Olly inches up next to me, the rocking of the skimmer accentuating his uneasy pallor. “We’re almost there,” he murmurs, his voice barely above the wind.
I nod, my gaze fixed on the island. “This is it, Olly. Our shot at a life beyond the city walls.”
He meets my eyes, a depth of unspoken history in his gaze. “We have to make this count, Kormen. I can’t...” He trails off, his expression haunted.
I know what he's thinking without him having to say it. Olly's story is one etched deeply in my mind. His parents, both Hammers in the city, had been driven to desperation when his sister fell ill. They sold years of their lives, their very essence, to nobles craving immortality, all for medicine that couldn't save her. The sacrifice had been in vain.
I remember the day he told me, under the darkness of our hideout, his voice breaking with each word. "They gave everything, Kormen. And for what? She still..." He couldn't finish then, and he doesn't need to now.
Unlike Olly, I have no family history to speak of, no memories of parents or a home. My past is a blank slate, but Olly’s is written in pain and loss. We've found our place among the misfits and rebels, surviving on the fringes of a society that values life in coins and essence.
I squeeze his shoulder, a silent promise. "We won't return to that life, Olly. Whatever's on that island, it'll change everything. For both of us."
His grip on my wrist tightens, a silent pact between us. In our world of uncertainty, this bond is the closest thing to certainty we have.
Our thoughts are interrupted when up ahead, the other skimmer drops sail and carves to a halt in the sand.
As we draw near the Amenion skimmer, we shift our hands to our weapons. The soldiers, clad in their scarlet uniforms, stand like statues, their expressions unreadable behind gleaming helmets. The grizzled captain, a man whose very presence commands respect, surveys us with flinty eyes, exuding an aura of authority and danger. His hand rests casually on the hilt of his sword, a silent but clear threat.
Balen strides forward with a confidence hard to believe. He holds a small chest, its contents clinking with the promise of wealth. The chest seems almost out of place in his rugged, calloused hands, makes him desperate and servile, thant the brute he normally sells himself as.
The captain's gaze shifts from Balen to the chest, his eyes narrowing. The others hold their breath–this is a gamble and Balen is playing a game where the stakes are our lives.
Balen extends the chest towards the captain with a deference that is hard to watch. The brash smuggler we know is gone, replaced by a man who would kneel before being asked.
The captain takes a moment, his eyes locked on Balen, as if weighing the man's soul against the offer in his hands. Then, with a curt nod, he accepts the chest, his movements stiff and slow, betraying nothing of his thoughts.
The tension breaks like a snapped string. The soldiers relax their stances, though their eyes remain vigilant. We're still thieves in their eyes, but for now, not worth the trouble.
As the Sovereign’s skimmer sails away, a flurry of whispered questions and speculations breaks out among us. His connections and past are more intertwined with the Sovereign forces than any of us have imagined.
Balen turns to us, his face an enigmatic mask. “We’re not safe yet. We need to reach the island now.” In his voice is urgency, leaving no room for questions.
But Olly, ever driven by curiosity, can't hold back. “How did you know he'd accept the bribe? What's stopping them from taking the gold and coming after us?”
Balen’s gaze drifts to the desert horizon, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. “The captain was a comrade of my father,” he says, his voice thick with reluctance. There’s a past there he’d rather keep hidden.
What choice has he had to make, what other secrets is he keeping?
I lean over the rail, searching the island for any way up. The thought of getting up there is a fool's dream, yet here we are, chasing it.
Then I see it - a solitary rope, thick and sturdy, dangling from the highest point of the island. It sways gently in the breeze, connecting the desert to what’s left of the immortals. The sight of it sends a shiver down my spine. Oh Six, please don’t be the way up.
The others follow my gaze, silent.
Balen moves to the centre of the skimmer, motioning us to gather around. He's holding several bulky, mechanical devices - hand-cranked rope winches, by the look of them.
He demonstrates how to operate the winches, fingers deft and sure. "These are your lifelines," he says. "That rope," he points, "is our only way up. We need to use these winches to ascend."
I take my winch. It’s all too heavy in my hands. The island looms above us, its cliffs a jagged silhouette against the sky. A slip, a missed grip, and we’ll slam into the desert, gravity crushing us into paste.
Balen watches us, his expression unreadable. "This is what you signed up for." A challenge hangs on his words.
Olly’s face is set in a determined scowl, and I take a deep breath.
The skimmer rocks beneath the island and our rope to destiny dangles before us, swaying in the breeze. Before we begin the climb, there's a brief lull, a moment of stillness that settles over us like a calm before the storm. I steal a glance at each of my companions, but they hide their feelings behind a blank mask.
With a snort, Robe is the first to hook onto the rope, shimming up as if she does this everyday before first-meal.
Then Pinched-face follows, teeth clenched with focus.
The twins gear up next. I try to smother my rapid breaths. As they pass me, they shoot me a sympathetic look. Is my fear that obvious? My throat tightens as I watch them ascend.
Olly looks at me and grips my forearm. He opens his mouth, to tell me that we don’t need to do this, that there’s another way, but I shake my head. Don’t say it out loud, or my courage will flee. He nods, and with a grunt of determination, hooks on next, climbing with a steady pace.
My turn is approaching, and panic rises within me. I glance towards Balen, but he simply nods at me, his eyes saying what his lips do not – it's time.