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The nameless tributary of the Torrent narrowed rapidly as the lowland swamps of the Stormheaths gave way to hillier, more arid foothills. The great whitewoods and ferns transitioned to hardier thorned bushes and palmettos with fanned branches that shuddered as they tilted to catch the sun.

By the time the tributary itself splintered into multiple smaller streams, the raft was far too large and the channels far too shallow to navigate. The of-age and near-adults of the group hauled the raft onto shore beneath a palm and buried it with a combination of red uplands soil and some dead branches.

Headcount showed the children were all present and accounted for, and there was no sign of pursuit. The group began a long walk into the highlands. A great wall of red-streaked rock awaited, growing ever larger on the horizon.

An ancient, worn-out footpath cut days off the trip and saved hours of trailblazing through thickets and groves of thorned bushes. What the terrain did not provide was shade from the noon heat. The relative lack of humidity helped, but with most of the chaperons consisting of squishy outlanders and half-outlanders the group had no choice but to camp in the narrow shadow of the red stone plateau before attempting the climb.

It was at this point that they had a conundrum. Paths were carved into the cliff before them, remnants of an old road from some time immemorial when the isle was more united. The road was mostly intact, winding in zig-zag fashion up the cliffs. It would be a steep but manageable climb in the day. But at night they would need some sort of light to see, and they could not give up their position with even a single torch. And the children were tired and sluggish.

“If we move now, we have ten hours,” Lloyd said.

“Realistically, the kids won’t move for another hour at least,” Sara said. “Even if we wake them now, there’ll be at least thirty minutes of bellyaching.”

“Why don’t Sam and I lead the stormlanders and those-from-over-the-mountains up, then you and the half-clan can come up in the afternoon or evening once things cool down?” Kur offered.

That wouldn’t do; it was never a good idea to split the party.

By the time the chaperons reached any kind of consensus it was cool enough to head out anyway. They made the children hold hands and advance up the cliffs in single file. They skirted the cliff face, keeping well away from the edge.

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Climbing continued throughout the afternoon. There was a dryness to the atmosphere here that kept the worst of the heat at bay. In the shade, it was almost bearable.

Hours of climbing later, the sun was wafting westward. The shadow of the cliff grew longer. They were maybe six-tenths of the way up, with maybe three hours of daylight left. There was enough time for one last rest at a particularly large junction. From this height, they could see a great deal of the Stormheaths west of the River Torrent.

“Hey, it’s that temple,” Lloyd motioned southwards.

“From the top you should be able to see Secondhome,” Maat said.

To their right, the Torrent was moving swiftly as it came out of a mile-deep canyon.

“We’ve been working on something.” Kur said. “Look.”

Kur produced an oblong tube filled with glasswork. Sara tried it first.

“Wow. I can make out individual rocks in the river,” she said, then passed the device to her brother.

“Huh, six boats coming up-river,” Lloyd said. “The big ones. Whole fleet of those patrol craft too.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Even the whitewood grand dugouts wouldn’t venture anywhere near the rapids. But even the smallest of these boats from off-island could brave the waters. The larger boats were laden with metal and supplies.

Maat, too, looked through the spyglass. Then they continued onward up the path. By the time they reached the next vantage point, the boats had assembled by the mouth of the canyon.

“Looks like they’re constructing something at the canyon,” Maat said, looking through the spyglass.

The journey continued, with the ramp breaking up into a series of weathered, stone stairs. By the time they reached the wide, mostly flat plateau at the top of the canyon, the sun was out of range, evidenced only by a faint orange glow in the far northeastern sky. The group camped by the cliff for six hours.

All through the night, a din of construction wafted over the highlands. By the time Maat traded watch off with Lloyd, the mouth of the canyon was covered in bright sunoil powered lamps.

When Maat next awoke it was midnight, thin towers were being built running up the canyon’s face.

“Looks like they’re building some kind of lift,” Kur announced.

“Do you think they’re chasing us?” Sara asked.

Maat shrugged. “Possibly. But they should think we escaped downriver.”

More ships were arriving by the hour, quickly establishing a makeshift port amidst the foothills.

“It will still be some time before those towers are built,” Maat said. “Days, even.”

Even so, it would be best to move fast.

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Daylight wouldn’t be for five hours yet. From this high perch they would be safe to advance by torchlight, specialized braziers covering exactly half of their wicks so as to preserve some modicum of stealth. To the west, the moon was taking up a full three-eighths of the horizon. It would waft over this part of the sea soon, gradually blocking the sun. A full eclipse would align for only three days, of which Maat’s birthday would occur at the exact midpoint.

Water supplies were holding up, eliminating the need to forage through the highland plateau’s few springs. There were a few berry-bearing shrubs on the highlands, though they hid their fruit behind a wall of barbs and thorns. Food rations were down to some prepared jerky. But if they could make it to the plains or find the headwaters, they should be able to restock.

It was another two days of walking through terrain, hiding out from a scalding midday in various caves and under the odd outcropping. In time they angled over towards the canyon, where they could see the rapids far below.

Animal life was sparse in the scorched highlands. On occasion they spied the odd condor gliding far above the plateau on the way towards more fertile hunting grounds in the Stormheaths.

It was a small wonder why the plateau didn’t have the milieu of dozens of competing clans. With scarce food sources and the nearest water source a mile down a sheer canyon, life was simply unsustainable at the level it was in the lowlands.

By the third day, the canyon grew wider. This was closer to how wide the Torrent was down in the Stormheaths.

“Wonder how the canyon got here…” Maat wondered aloud.

“It’s always been here,” Kur said.

“The gods put it here,” said Sam.

“Mom says there was an evil wizard who summoned a flood on this very spot,” Sara said. “Guess every clan has its own story.”

They heard the roar of cascading waters a day before they ever saw the falls. Cascading waterfalls, five layers deep, came into view, through a curtain of mist, as the group rounded the great canyon. And beyond the falls, on a raised mound, was a multi-layered stone circle. This was far from a grand temple like in the other riverside structures.

“So, these are the headwaters.” Maat marked a rough ‘X’ on his handheld map.

Maat wasn’t going to say it, but this place felt vaguely familiar to him.

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“Hey, don’t want to rush anyone, but there’s another group on the far side of the canyon.” Lloyd was looking through the spyglass, back towards the opposite shore.

“Who?” Maat asked.

“Well, the lead guy has a fancy hat,” Lloyd said. “Probably less than a day out.”

“They’re on the other side of this gorge,” Kur said. “What can they do to us?”

“Look ahead,” Sara said. “The canyon ends at the headwaters.”

“Let’s just forget the headwaters. Make for the mountain pass.” Sam nodded at the mountains rising far behind the falls. “Soon we’ll be in the plainslands. I know the area well – at least, from what my family’s told us of our old ancestral lands. And no Jean’in would dare follow us through the fumaroles.”

Maat frowned, considering the options.

“We’re chaperoning children, Sam,” Sara said.

“Yeah. We’ll be run down before we even get halfway to the pass,” Lloyd agreed.

“Make for the temple,” Maat said. “At the bare minimum, it’s defensible.”

And if Maat’s hunch was correct, they may be able to find a surprise ally there.

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