The Mark of Aether

Amidst The Flames~Part II

The weather was hot.

I shielded my face with my hands, trying to prohibit the rays of light from burning my eyes anymore. The sun itself looked like an enormous ball of blazing ember; the aridity in the air made my insides boil.

It was as thought the sun was casting a curse upon the dried lands, a long history of hate growing between it and the clouds.

I wringed the piece of fabric I'd been using to mop the sweat of my forehead before leaning back, my rear aching from the long hours of riding on horses. Early this morning, and with the first dawn like Jaafar said, we started travelling.

We'd passed through the cavalcade of cities following the district where we'd settled last night before continuing. It took us agonizing, long hours before civilization started flying away with the wind until vegetation could merely be found.

We weren't in a sandy desert, instead, the road underneath the horses' hooves was rocky and mostly crumbled with some insects—mostly scorpions—appearing from a while to another. The caravan following Jaafar was quiet most of the time, except the few loud children that enjoyed yelling and talking out loud in a language I could not clearly discern.

Apparently, Leon's deal with the black maven was to take us as close as he could afford to our destination—somewhere among a catenae of volcanoes. Most logically, where there was fire, there must be a volcano.

I just hoped we hit the guessing right; else way we would have to welcome our failure with open arms. I pulled my canteen from the bag hanged to the saddle before drinking, the cool liquid tracing its way down my throat. It felt so relieving.

Wherever I looked, I saw fire. Several times, we saw faked mirages doing traitorous dances in front of our poor eyes. I pulled the thin scarf over my mouth as a slight wind came towards us, carrying particles of sand with it.

Compared to my outfit, the Bedouins' clothes seemed quite thicker, all dressed in those dirty-white boubous. I heard the screak of some vultures circling in the high skies, looking like a swaggering splash of black in the clear firmament underneath the sun's wavering beams.

Everything around us seemed to dance with the heat, unsettling in one place. The rings around my fingers were burning my skin from time to time, being affected by the hotness suffocating us. Most possibly, they were covered with specific enchantments that adjusted their temperature each time they started burning me. So far so long, Mayra and Carter were holding up well, too.

We continued walking in silence for another hour.

And another.

And a lot more than just another, until Jaafar finally stopped in the middle of nowhere.

He dismounted his dark steed and landed firmly on the rocky ground. Since I laid eyes on him, I imagined him as an Arabian warrior from those ancient fairytales like in Ali Baba or Alaa El Din. The only thing missing was the flying carpet.

"I can no longer guide you farther. This is the closest point to the Scorching Volcanoes I can afford to reach. Keep on riding straight until you see the upside-down rock and then, turn to your right. It should become clear to your eyes where the place is,'' guided Jaafar in his stern voice, tracing a line in the air, explaining his words.

"Well, thank you for your aid, Jaafar. It was more than useful,'' bid Leon, studying the path we were told to follow.

Jaafar bowed, his hands resting on the glaive strapped to his waist. ''My honor, sir.''

''Take the horses with you. They will not endear the weather if ever we take them with us.''

''Yes, sir,'' replied the Bedouin, making us dismount our horses. We all threw a complex look to Leon, expecting an explication.