Wielder's Rising by T.B. Christensen Page A

sure.  They continued riding towards the fissure.  As far as he knew this would be their only chance of climbing through the cliffs and continuing further inland.  He hoped that their journey wouldn’t be cut short so soon.
    When they finally arrived at the break, Traven pulled up on Pennon’s reins and studied the ascent more closely.  The path along the fissure and up to the top of the cliffs looked difficult but not as bad as he had at first feared.  The base of the narrow break in the cliffs was covered with sand and medium sized rocks that continued all the way up to the top of the cliffs.  The ascent would be fairly steep, but as long as the rocks were solid, there should be enough footing for the horses to make it up.  He suggested that they eat their lunch and give the horses a rest before attempting the climb.
    “I agree,” replied Studell.  “We want the horses rested.  I’m still not even sure we will be able to make it to the top.”
    “The horses can make it,” Traven assured him.  “We just need to take it slow and be careful.”
    After eating lunch and watching the waves crash against the rocks jutting up out of the ocean, they decided it was time to make the ascent.  Traven led the way.  Pennon was surefooted and was able to pick out a safe path for Studell’s mount and the packhorse to follow.  Traven kept his eyes on the rocky rise before him.  Not because his mount needed any help picking out a safe path, but because he didn’t want to think about how high they were getting.  They paused about halfway up to give the horses another rest.
    Traven glanced downwards toward the shore.  A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he turned away to look at their path once again.  He tried to get the image of the steep drop out of his mind.  He reminded himself that the horses hadn’t had any trouble so far and would be fine, but he knew he wouldn’t feel completely comfortable until they reached the top.  When the horses were ready, they continued on.  There were a few instances where one of the horses stumbled slightly, but all were able to quickly regain their footing.  As they neared the top of the cliffs, Traven let out a sigh of relief and loosened his white-knuckled grip on Pennon’s reins.  With one last heave, his mount crested the top of the cliffs.
    Traven stared in awe as Studell’s mount and the packhorse climbed up next to Pennon.  As far as the eye could see there was nothing but waves of fine sand, rising and falling in giant swells.  No wonder it was called the ‘Dune Sea’ on the map.  He shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun off the endless desert that stretched before him.  He could also see why it was referred to as the ‘shimmering hills’.  The air seemed to waver slightly, causing the sand to look like it was shining in the bright sun.  A hot blast of dry wind and sand blew against them as they stood staring.  He turned away from the desert, rubbing his eyes as Studell began coughing.
    “Isn’t that something,” Studell said in between coughs.  Traven agreed.  The desert had a stark beauty to it, but the heat coming off of it was not welcome.
    “It’s amazing how hot and dry it is up here with the ocean so close,” Traven observed.
    “It is quite different from being down on the beach,” Studell replied.  “My mouth is dry just looking at that endless stretch of barren wasteland.”
    Traven agreed.  He looked out over the ocean, being careful not to get too close to the edge of the cliffs.  He wished he could still feel its cool breeze.  He turned away from the sea and studied their new path.  As uncomfortable as he had felt trapped between the cliffs and the ocean, he would take the narrow beach any day over venturing out into the desert that stretched before him.  Studell suggested that they change into their desert gear before heading inland.  They donned their robes and head wraps and gave the horses some water.
    Traven