The Windcaster [Fantasy/Adventure | Featured | Complete ]

Chapter 41: The Forgotten

The weakness from hunger and thirst, and fatigue from the lack of rest, were never ending. Days ran into nights and back into days, again and again in a cyclical drone, and she rode on, not knowing where to go and focused wholly on increasing the distance between herself and the pursuing army. She drank from small puddles where she could find them and chewed leaves in an attempt to keep the gnawing hunger at bay.

Humbaba – she had decided to name the carrier, her only remaining companion, in honour of that joyful Rathian boy – was getting skinnier and slower by the day. His once-glossy coat had dulled and patches were worn off where the saddle had rubbed. It was getting irritable, but at least it was still willing to gallop when she willed it.

The lives of those sacrificed merely in the past week weighed heavy on her shoulders. The sense of responsibility was magnified with every thump of the book against her chest, reminding her of the importance of its and her survival, and what blood had been shed. She didn't dare think too much about it, but she was quite possibly the last Windcaster alive.

The training in mental and physical perseverance under Master Marduk during Tia's time at Ptarmigan Fortress certainly had come in useful. None of the previous years spent in sheltered, peaceful, slow Mooncliffe would have prepared her for days on end of hunger, thirst, sleeplessness, fear, and exposure to nature. The Tiamat of Mooncliffe a year ago would not have survived for so long.

Master Marduk wouldn't have been disappointed in the apprentice he had trained, not that praise would ever come out of his cruel lips. He would likely instead berate her for not following up on the paper work, or for not scribing quick enough. That would probably have result in a late or missed supper.

She almost laughed, had she the energy, at the ridiculousness of it all. Such worries and punishment seemed so mundane now, so irrelevant.

Her half-chuckle died in her throat as the world around her blurred again. She clutched at Humbaba's long, slender neck as she swayed dangerously; the exhaustion was overwhelming. She struggled to maintain conscious but her skin tingled all over, almost as if her soul was pulling itself out of body.

Deciding it was time to stop, or else she would collapse, she pulled the carrier to a stop, not caring about where she might be. Anywhere was better than lying half-dead or being caught when unconscious from fatigue.

She slid off, not letting go of the rein.

She had no idea where she was now; all around her was barren land and abandoned buildings. Most of the structures were burned to a crisp and new growth had sprouted through the earth and ashes. The air was still, the silence eerie. A burned smell still lingered in the air. Moss grew over the low stone walls.

She picked her way through the soot and remnants, avoiding catching her feet in the new roots; if she fell now, she would not have the energy to pick herself up again.

Her leather boots left little foot trails behind her. Humbaba tossed its head, irritable. She patted its neck in sympathy.

"Let us find some place to rest, my friend." Her stomach scrunched together painfully and she winced. Nothing would be edible or drinkable in this dire environment, she lamented. "Perhaps I can find some place to Sing to Mommu again," she said out loud, trying to distract her head from the hunger.

She let go of the carrier. Humbaba slid to its knees and then onto its belly, leaning on its side with a sigh, its usually perky ears beginning to droop.

Scanning her surroundings, Tia wondered what sort of place this used to be. The roofs had long collapsed and empty holes were where glass windows would have gleamed all those years ago. She could see household appliances behind some collapsed walls: blackened metal bed frames, charred clay fireplaces, and remnants of half-burned wooden furniture. The abandoned buildings were mostly of elegant design – what she could make of them. They were very traditional Dernexan structures: square, with small windows and delicate arches, which to this day still retained their intricate, chiselled decorations. All the glamour that would have graced the surface had long disappeared, however.