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Ancient Wind
Chapter 1
Mathra Ohed's ragged, light brown tunic flapped in the breeze. Her bright green eyes pierced through the arid, burning air, searching the distant sand dunes for any sign of her husband, Gregor. Usually, when he left on one of his wanderings into the desert, he came back within a week. Despite her desperate attempts to squeeze information from him, he was always too delirious when he came back to say anything. If she mentioned it later, he claimed she was crazy, and that he never went on such hikes.
She pulled the orange wisps of hair from her freckled, tear-stained cheeks. Greg had been gone for almost two weeks this time. The Maruba Desert was a cruel, relentless wasteland, and he couldn't possibly survive it much longer. Mathra was mystified at how he lasted even a week out there. At times, she wondered if maybe there was something or someone out there that her husband was meeting with. There couldn't be any other explanation.
Sighing, she turned and pulled open the flap to their large, domed hut, positioned against a large pinnacle of rock jutting from the coarse sand. The slight scent of animal fur and sweat wafted from the entrance as she ducked inside. The inside of the tent was about twenty feet long and wide. Wild boar skins covered the floor, and a low round table sat to the right. To the left was a large bed, made of oak and covered with bearskins. Against the far side, the tent hugged the rock, and an opening let a trickle of water through, which created a small pool at the base of the cliff.
Mathra dragged her feet as she walked to the bed. Kicking off her worn sandals, she let gravity take over and flopped onto the bed, trying to hold back tears. After a few minutes, she couldn't keep it in any longer, and she burst into sobs. Suddenly, there was a soft thump at the door. She jolted upright to see the dirty, ragged, dehydrated figure of her husband, slumped over against the doorpost. Gregor was much thinner than usual, and his height only amplified the weight loss. An unkempt beard hugged his chin, almost to the point where Mathra didn't recognize him.
"Gregor!" She exclaimed, frantically rubbing the salty water from her face and sniffling as she rushed to his side. He was just about to collapse, and she caught him. She dragged his almost lifeless body across the floor, ruffling and turning up the corners of the dark brown skins, and set him against the bed, taking a deep breath before attempting to heave him up onto it.
It took a few tries, but finally she managed to roll his limp body onto the bed. She rushed over to the table and grabbed the metal flask lying in the middle. After filling it with water from the spring, she carefully tried to pour water into Greg's mouth. Unfortunately, only a little got past his lips, as her hands were trembling and he started coughing halfway through. Mathra slapped his face lightly, whispering his name through her tears. His eyes slowly opened.
"...Where...am I?" He croaked in confusion. Mathra's eyes grew slightly larger. This was worse than usual, but that was probably to be expected. After all, he had been out in the desert for a while.
"Shhh. Just rest. Drink this," Mathra whispered, holding the flask up to his cracked lips. He winced as it slid down his rough, raw throat, and started coughing violently. Mathra held him as he sat up, clutching his throat. After it calmed down, he gave a few dry retches and passed out on the bed.
"NO! SOMEONE, PLEASE, HELP ME!!" He screamed, leaping upright and tumbling head over heels onto something soft. He clutched the strange floor, breathing rapidly. Feeling lightheaded, he saw the faint image of a woman leaning over him. It's her! Gregor realized, panicking. Quickly he thrust her off and searched for the exit. A small crack of light to his left...not in the usual location.
He frantically pushed his way through the darkness toward that crack, not daring to imagine what was behind him. The crack was easily split apart with his hands, and he saw the beautiful, familiar dunes of sand, nearly glowing with moonlight. The dark, navy blue sky was sparkling with tiny white specks, and the orb of light, the goddess of the night, the moon, welcomed him with its soft light.
Turning around, he saw a curving wall of animal skins instead of the rough granite walls of the temple. What was this? How had he gotten here?
A tall woman with tangled orange hair parted the crack in the wall he had come through. Greg stumbled over backwards, putting a dent in the sand. Never had he imagined her looking like this. The descriptions he had heard always put terrifying images of death and destruction in his head. Maybe she could change her form to lure in victims...
"Stay away from me!" He growled, scooting backwards. The woman seemed confused and scared, but he knew it was just a trap. He would not be taken. Quickly he pushed himself up and into a mad dash. No destination in particular, his main concern was escaping that place. As sand spilled down the dunes behind his bare feet, he tried to ignore the frantic shouts of the woman. How does she know my name? She must be the one...
Mathra squeezed her eyes shut and resisted the urge to run after him. She had tried that before. It had ended in a black eye and dark bruises on her arms. Once Greg was in one of his weird trances, all she could do was wait until he came out of it. Her only worry was that he had barely gotten a drink of water before leaving again.
It had all started with the death of their son two years ago...
"More, mommy!"
"More! Are you sure? Can you move your legs?" Mathra asked, laughing.
"It's not high enough!" Hami squealed.
"Yes it is! I don't think we can get it any higher, do you?"
"...Uh...I know! We need a stick!" Hami announced.
"A stick?"
"Yeah! So we can put a flag on it!" Of course. The stick. He always liked a stick pointing out of the top of the mound, and he called it a flag, even though it was simply a bare stick. Mathra didn't understand why just a plain old stick at the top satisfied him, but he would never leave the pile until there was a "flag" sticking upright at the pinnacle of the mountain.
"Oh! I forgot it! Let me go find one from the woodpile, ok?" Mathra quickly said, brushing off her tunic as she stood.
They were at the edge of their village, close to the border of the desert. Sharp, jagged black mountains pierced the sand and rose to the clear blue sky a mile or so away. On the other side rested the Hapke Jungle, which most of the villagers had never seen, only heard about. The mountain pass was too dangerous; it was constantly occupied by thieves.
Maruba Village consisted of about one hundred people, living in huts made from animal skins with wooden frames. Scraggly, flat-topped trees shaded the area, and a spring came up in the middle of the village. The Oheds lived on the side of the village farthest from the mountains, close to the open desert. The ground was rough and rocky with tufts of long grass poking through here and there, so they liked to go a little farther out where the sand was clear.
As Mathra grabbed a small stick from their woodpile, there was a muffled scream in the distance behind her. She was almost out the gate before the twig she had been holding hit the sand. When she reached the corner and could see straight down the road, she noticed in terror that the dune where Hami had been sitting was empty.
Maybe he fell down the other side, she thought to herself frantically as she dashed towards the hill. When she reached the top, all she could see was sand, sand and more sand.
"Hami!" Mathra cried, in hopes that he was somewhere nearby. She never found him. A couple weeks later, Gregor started his aberrant wanderings. After a long year had passed, Gregor continued the habit, and Hami had still not been found. They pronounced the child dead, and they held a funeral for him. All the while, Mathra's vision was blurred with tears. It was all her fault.
