Wet Fire

Nobody's Men (E14)

Adair 

As the night wore on, Adair's left fingers drifted more and more over to the hilt of the golden sword that hung loosely at his hip. It was an odd thing really. From somewhere deep in his subconscious, he was growing more agitated. Possibly, it was from the lack of water—the effects of which had been wearing on him for days now—or it could have been from a sixth sense, unbeknownst to Adair. Whatever the reason, that poor excuse for a sword was always in his mind, itching to be held, or pressed underneath his palm.

Cass was hooked on his right arm, using his body for support. Walking was getting harder for her recently. She staggered along, most of the time, talking about her life on the sea, and how much she missed seeing so much water in one place. Whenever she talked about water, Adair's stomach twisted, his mouth feeling substantially more parched.

Several days ago, she had had to do away with a good amount of the trinkets she collected from the beach. Carrying all of those things on her back had rubbed her shoulders close to raw. Not to his surprise, items such as a rope, or a stack of parchments did not come in handy while traveling across a flat, scorching, waste. They had disposed of the things in the dusty sand one morning, leaving them out in the open for anyone to find. Part of him hoped that someone would find them, and possibly be led to their location. Anyone, any other human at all, would be a welcome sight for Adair's eyes.

The cracked earth seemed to drink the blood-red of the moons that night, reflecting red onto the jagged walls of the pillars. Kade told them that they should be nearing the end of these blasted pillars, and sure enough—Adair had noticed—they were growing fewer and farther between. 

Out in front, Kade suddenly halted, his eyes fixated on something on the ground. He tucked his compass into his shirt, and knelt, brushing aside dust. "Come here, you two. Look at this." 

Adair trotted up to him, in a half-run, dragging Cass behind him. It was difficult to exert any sort of energy these days, especially at this hour "What is it?" Adair's voice cracked as he peered over his uncle's shoulder. 

"There were people here." Kade pointed to a small, blackened indentation left in the ground. Dipping his fingers in the dust, he rubbed his hands together and then sniffed. "Charcoal. About a week old." 

Relief washed over him. So, there were others out here. "Do we know where they could have gone? Is there any way to follow them?"

"Possibly, son. If there was not so much dust out here, we might have been able to follow tracks." He stood, and peered off into the distance, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Let's keep going."

Kade stood and took off at a brisk pace. Adair and Cass followed.

***

Kade

The compass he was carrying felt warm in his hand. The thing was made of wood--a nice polished hickory--but the amount of metal detailing on its interface made it susceptible to the temperature. Kade was confident in it--he had used a compass many time in his life, and this time was the most important. He was responsible for leading his nephew out of the desert.  The prince had to return to his rightful place in Cyclonus. 

The ruined campfire was a sure sign of human life out here. It was comforting to him to at least see something that told him that they were headed closer to civilization. The compass alone might not have been enough.  

It had been nearly a month since he woke on that bloody shore after the pirate attack. He had been frightened. The first thing he had wondered was where he was, but there was something else wrong. It felt as if some of his memories were missing, as if someone had coated part of his mind in wax and sealed his past thoughts and actions away, giving him no access to them. What was odd was that he still felt that the memories were there--they were there--he was confident of that much. It had been his personal mission since the shipwreck to break those wax seals. But what could do such a thing?