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

watched with concern as the horses lapped up the precious liquid.  He knew the horses needed it as much as he and Studell did but was worried that there wouldn’t be enough for all of them.  Staring out over the endless hills of sand, he hoped that the map was correct and there truly was a spring halfway to the ruins of the keep.  If not, they would have no chance of making it to the ancient keep and back alive.  When the horses were finished, the two men remounted and set off into the desert.
    The rocky ground at the edge of the cliffs soon gave way to the fine desert sand of the dune sea.  Traven led them along the tops of the soaring dunes making his way due north.  After only an hour of plodding along into the desert, he wondered if they were making a huge mistake.  The heat rose in shimmering waves around them as their mounts trudged forward.  He was dripping with sweat and wanted to take his robe off for relief but knew that although the robes kept his body heat in, they also protected him from the blazing sun.
    Traven glanced back at Studell often and could tell that the elderly man was faring even worse than he was.  After another hour of monotonous plodding through the shimmering sand under the sweltering sun, he decided that it would be best if they stopped to rest.  The philosopher had almost fallen out of his saddle several times, and Traven was worried that if they continued on any longer the philosopher might pass out.
    “Let’s stop here and take a rest,” Traven said.  “We’ll set up a little shelter and wait out the hottest part of the day.”
    Studell nodded in agreement and slipped down off of his horse.  Traven hurried to set up a small shelter to block out the blazing sun.  He then helped Studell out of his robes and under the lean-to.  The philosopher was flushed and obviously struggling in the heat.  Traven offered him some water and suggested that they try to sleep a little and then continue on once it wasn’t as hot.  Studell agreed and was soon asleep.
    Traven glanced out from their shelter at the shimmering air that appeared to be rising off of the sand.  In all directions he saw nothing but sand and more sand.  At first he had thought the shimmering distortion in the air was water in the distance, but after traveling so long without seeing any sign of it, he had realized that it was nothing more than an illusion created by the rising heat.
    He and the philosopher had greatly underestimated how hot and dry the desert would be.  It had been unwise to set out across it in the middle of the day.  He was tempted to suggest heading back to the coast but knew that the philosopher was set on finding the ruins.  Traven had to admit that he also wouldn’t give up on their task so easily.  He decided that their best chance would be to sleep during the hottest part of the day and travel as much as they could at night.  That would allow them to conserve their small supply of water and prevent the philosopher from passing out from the heat.
    Traven laid down to join the philosopher in sleep, but just as he started to nod off the horses began to get agitated.  He thought nothing much of it and tried to rest.  However, when they started to neigh loudly and dance around in place he began to wonder what was bothering them so much.  He looked out of the small shelter to see what the problem was and found them staring to the west with wild eyes.  He followed their gaze and gasped.
    There was an incredibly tall roiling wall of dark brown racing towards them.  At first he had no idea of what he was seeing but suddenly realized that it was a giant wall of sand.  Soon the sun was blotted out.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  There was no way they could outrun it.  He knew that whatever he needed to do, he must do it fast.  He instinctively threw blankets over the horses to protect them from the sand.  He then threw himself under the lean-to and pulled it down on top of the