Conjunction

"It doesn't look like a sea to me," Caden said, comparing the two maps. "There's no water."

"It dried up long before our ancestors walked the earth," the Master replied. "In a way, we should be thankful. It is mostly due to this natural barrier that the ancient city has remained largely untouched."

"So...I should expect to encounter monsters during my trek across it?" Caden asked.

"Are you afraid?" the Master demanded, narrowing his eyes at his apprentice.

"Yes," he replied.

"You would be foolish not to be. Fear is a healthy sentiment, Caden. Now, fetch your things while I transcribe this map as best I can. You set out in the morning."

"So soon?" Caden lamented. "Master...you know that I am not ready. I've barely learned how to use my staff, I have almost no idea of what I'm even supposed to be looking for!"

"Few who must shoulder such burdens ever are," he replied, "but that does not change our situation. Bring everything that you think you might need, but do not weigh yourself down unduly. I would have you make the journey to the Coral Sea on horseback, but you know not how to ride, and we do not have the time to teach you."

"I make a rather poor adventurer," Caden muttered.

"You will do fine, I am sure of it," the Master replied. "If you can read a book, then you can read a map. You may not know how to ride a horse or swing a sword, but your mind can be sharper than any blade, and it is upon that which you must rely."

"Sharper than the Blade of Umorath?"

"Not quite," the Master replied with a chuckle.

***

Caden slung his pack over his shoulders, the straps cutting into his skin through his robes as he adjusted its weight. He was traveling light, but even so, it was unwieldy.

"What do you have in here?" the Master grumbled, Caden feeling him rummage through the bag. "What the...a guide to outdoorsmanship? A wilderness cookbook? I told you not to weigh yourself down unduly, Caden. Surely you do not need step by step instructions for making a campfire, or filleting a fish?"

"I must keep the spellbook, at least," he protested as the Master set the leather-bound tomes on a nearby table.

"That you may, but you need to start thinking about solving problems with your wits alone. Ever since your family entrusted me with your education, you have spent almost every waking moment with your nose buried in the pages of a book. When faced with a problem, it has become second-nature for you to look it up, to pluck your solutions from a shelf. You cannot rely upon that knowledge in the real world, you must learn to get by on your own judgment."

"Must everything be a lesson?" he complained.

"Every experience in life is a lesson," the Master chided. "Now, turn around and let me have a look at you."

Caden was wearing a tunic and a pair of loose pants that would give him some reprieve from the heat, a hooded robe draped over his shoulders to protect him from the lingering sun. It was all dull shades of brown and green, made from linen, nothing out of the ordinary. Wool had traditionally been the preferred fabric in the region, favored for its warmth, but there had been no winters for many years. On his feet, he wore a tough pair of leather boots that would hopefully survive the journey.

The belt around his waist was laden with several items, including a large waterskin, as hydration would be of the utmost importance. With the knowledge that he had recently gained, he would be able to use his staff to conjure water from the very air, meaning that he could drink as much as he pleased without having to worry about finding a river or a stream from which to refill it.

The enchanted dagger hung from his hip in its ornate scabbard, Caden careful to keep it concealed beneath his cloak lest it draw attention to him, as it was so lavish as to be out of place on his more mundane outfit. The magic coin purse was now heavy with gold, tied to his belt by its drawstring. He had questioned whether the Master could afford to give him so much, but as he had said, money would be of no use if the world came to an end.

"You have enough provisions to take you to the nearest town once you leave the city?" he asked, Caden nodding his head.

"I can make it at least that far on my own, you needn't worry."

He was unaccustomed to seeing the Master fret over him like this, and it was rather endearing. He was not a callous person, but he rarely showed any overt affection towards his charge. The man had served as his surrogate father since the age of ten, when his parents had handed him over to the Sorcerer's Guild for training. One of their scouts had sensed a magical potential in him, and his family had decided that sending him away to become an apprentice would give him a better life than that of a simple farmhand. Caden missed them sometimes, but he understood that the decision had been made with his future in mind and that it didn't mean they loved him any less. His training and studies had afforded him no time to visit them, but perhaps one day, he would make his grand return. Assuming that the world didn't burn to a cinder before then...

"All that I have left to give you now is my blessing," the Master said, reaching up to rest his hands on Caden's shoulders. "I know all too well the burden that I have placed upon you, boy, but I would not do so unless I was certain that you had the strength to carry it. You have more potential than you know."

"Thank you, Master," Caden replied. "For everything."

There was no more that needed to be said, the two sharing one last farewell before Caden turned to the door, stepping out into a wall of sweltering heat. He turned to look back at the crooked tower as he made his way down the winding path, feeling the sun beating down on him. He raised his hood over his head, gripping one of the leather straps of his pack as he continued on his way.

CHAPTER 2: DUSTY TRAILS

The city was as deserted as ever, the sun baking the paving stones to create a shimmering heat haze between the timber-framed facades of the buildings. It was like midday in the heart of a hot summer, despite the calendar's insistence that it should have been a cool autumn evening. The way that the days lingered threw Caden's internal clock off-kilter. There was no twenty-four-hour schedule anymore, the nights were short and hot, resulting in people going about their business in a kind of confused trance. He came across a few of them here and there, tightly wrapped in shawls and cloaks as they ran errands. They clung to the dark shadows as though they were the shores of a river, the light pooling in the street, so bright that it was hard to look at.

He knew the way out of the city, there was no need to bring out the map or the compass yet, and he would be able to make his way to the border of the kingdom without too much trouble. Civilized lands were well signposted, and the roads were properly maintained. Or at least, they had been until recently. With the world slowly grinding to a halt, there were more pressing matters to concern oneself with than filling in potholes and trimming hedges.

Like many older settlements in the kingdom, this one had once been fortified, but the city limits had expanded far beyond the old battlements over time. The castle keep rose up in the distance, the great stone walls draped with the king's heraldry, the ramparts towering over the squat dwellings that surrounded it. The wall of the outer bailey was visible in places where it rose above the slanted rooftops, the crenelated bastions that had once served as watch towers keeping their silent vigil. He passed through one of the gateways in the old stone wall on his way out, a rusted portcullis that hadn't been lowered in an age hanging high above his head. There was a city guard sitting on a stool in the shadow of the arched passageway, but he was too hot and tired to do much more than glance at Caden as he passed by. Beyond it was a bridge that led over a moat, now little more than a trench with a puddle of muddy water at the bottom.

The claustrophobic city streets gradually gave way to more sparse hamlets as he made his way into the surrounding countryside. He followed winding roads that snaked their way through the rolling hills, passing by thatched cottages and small farmhouses. The meadows and pockets of forest had once overflowed with lush greenery, but now they were yellowed and sickly, suffering in the oppressive heat. The trees were shedding their dead leaves, their branches naked and skeletal, only the weeds that grew in their shade seeming to cling stubbornly to life. Even the hardy patches of grass and wildflowers that sprouted in the middle of the rocky paths were wilting these days. The rolling fields were separated by wild hedgerows and crumbling stone walls, but what was once an ocean of golden wheat and barley was now decaying. The growing seasons had been scrambled by the calamity, and the seedlings were mostly dying before ever reaching maturity, making harvesting crops next to impossible. The flocks of sheep that would usually be scattered about as they grazed were huddled beneath the shelter of whatever trees they could find, the herds of dairy cows crowding their water troughs.

Caden made his way up one of the dirt tracks, stopping at the top of a hill, turning to look back the way he had come. He could make out the city in the distance, perhaps ten miles away now. It had been a long time since he had seen his home in its entirety like this. He could see the keep, and the Master's tower, along with the town square. He paused there a few minutes longer, knowing that it might be months or even years before he would lay eyes on it again. If he survived his journey at all...

He turned back to the road, finding himself longing for the shade of the forest.

***

It wasn't long before Caden's waterskin ran dry. He had been walking for the better part of a day beneath the blazing sun, and the speed at which he had drained it took him by surprise. He was making his way along a woodland path, what had once been dense forest rising up to either side of the dirt road, forming a kind of tunnel above his head. Most of the leaves were dead, bright rays of sunlight bleeding through the sparse canopy, but the gnarled branches still provided some reprieve from the heat.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, putting his lips to its mouth as he upended it. After taking a moment to look around, making sure that he was alone, he slunk off the path and into the brush. Bone-dry leaves and desiccated ferns crunched underfoot as he trudged deeper, finding a small clearing with a large boulder rising from the ground in its center. He would have expected to hear the chirping of birds, to see a skittish deer or a curious rabbit rush by, but there was only the sound of the branches creaking in the breeze.

He walked up to the rock and set the waterskin down on top of its mossy surface, hesitating before screwing the cap back on. The water would just pour out of it otherwise, and it wasn't as though he was filling it from any tangible source. After setting his pack down beside it, he fished inside for the book on magic that he had brought with him, opening it at the index. He leafed through the dusty pages until he came across the passage that interested him, hydromancy.

As with all magic, performing a predefined ritual was not enough. Knowledge of the subject was required. One could not command fire without having a deep understanding of its properties, how it behaved, and how one's magic acted upon it.

"Let's see," Caden muttered, licking his thumb before turning another page. Water was not only found in wells and rivers, nor in lakes and oceans. It could be found in the very air itself, in humidity, taking the form of vapors and mists. This spell required that he focus on the invisible droplets that surrounded him, calling on them to coalesce.

Caden set the open book down on the dry grass, taking a step back and raising his staff. He exhaled, letting his power flow through its haft as the Master had taught him, the wood seeming to come alive in his hands in response. It pulsed with magic like a beating heart, that familiar hum seeming to fill the clearing with its silent song, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

He opened his eyes, glancing down at the incantation, mouthing the words quietly as he read them off. After memorizing the short passage, he began to cast the spell, lifting the falcon's beak into the air as he chanted. With a sense beyond sight, he watched the shimmering strands pour from his fingers like streams of quicksilver, winding their way through the shaft. They concentrated at its bronze tip, Caden feeling a swell of pride as he watched what looked like droplets of morning dew collect on the metal. They began to merge together, water dripping from the carving, running down the polished shaft to wet his fingers.

Success! He was conjuring water from nothing. Now, he just had to concentrate on directing it into the waterskin. His brow furrowing as he concentrated, he willed the moisture to collect within the leather receptacle, seeing those sparkling droplets clinging to its interior in his mind's eye. Still whispering the incantation under his breath, he brought the bronze tip of the staff to the waterskin, hovering over it. Before his eyes, it began to fill, slowly expanding on the rock until it was stretched taut. As he stopped his chanting and lowered his stave, the energy that was coursing through his veins faded, the hum abating. Caden took a moment to collect himself, that intoxicating feeling of adrenaline gradually receding.

The water sloshed around in the waterskin as he raised it, its weight suggesting that it was indeed full to the brim. Caden opened the cap and lifted it to his lips tentatively. Cool, fresh water poured into his mouth, its taste that of a mountain spring. He couldn't help but grin as he drank his fill, feeling the cold liquid settle in his belly. One of the greatest dangers that faced him was crossing the Coral Sea, but now that he had an infinite supply of water, that task seemed far less daunting.

Satisfied with this small victory, he returned the waterskin to his belt and turned back towards the road.

***

Night had finally fallen, the stars twinkling in the cloudless sky as Caden marched, the cracked earth crunching beneath his boots. The days now lasted thirty hours or more, and after sunset, there were only a scant few hours before the cycle began anew. People tended to sleep whenever they became tired, even if their every instinct told them that it was the middle of the day, resulting in no small measure of disorientation. He always found himself sleeping either too much or too little.

He paused to glance up at the mercifully dark sky, noting that the constellations that he had learned to recognize during his studies had either vanished entirely, or had strayed far from their usual positions in the heavens. It was as though the entire sky had moved in relation to the world, or perhaps the world had moved in relation to it...

In the distance, he spotted the inviting glow of a building, the yellow light of oil lamps spilling out onto the road. It was one of the many inns that would provide a warm meal and a safe bed for weary travelers. Caden's feet were starting to blister, he had never done this much walking, and the idea of a soft mattress was irresistible. At least while he was still journeying through civilized lands, he needn't spend the night in the wilderness with only the light of his campfire to ward off hungry predators. Even if the monsters had been driven out long ago, the more remote forests were still home to bears and wolves that occasionally preyed on the unwary.

The inn came into view, illuminated by the golden glow of a solitary oil lamp that hung above its entrance, and the light that escaped through its many windows. Its crooked, timber frames were visible between the white plaster infill of its facades, the wood stained a dark brown that bordered on black. The second storey was jettied, projecting further out than the floor beneath it, supported by rows of decorative wooden brackets. The thatched roof drooped low over the building, extending to the dormers on the upper level that likely denoted where the guest rooms were. The whole building had a very top-heavy look, as though it was slowly collapsing in on itself. He was surprised to see smoke billowing from the brick chimney, but that probably originated from ovens rather than hearths.

Caden passed the adjoining stable that would provide shelter for the horses, making his way to the large, oaken door. He had never been to a tavern before, but he had read about them. After reaching down to brush his hand against his coin purse, reassuring himself that it was still present, he pushed open the heavy door. It creaked on its old hinges, Caden stepping over the threshold, the smells of home-cooked food immediately setting his stomach gurgling.

He emerged into an expansive common room, the floor beneath his feet lined with wooden planks, the ceiling crisscrossed by exposed beams from which more oil lamps dangled on chains. On the wall to his far left was an ornate brick fireplace, the hearth presently empty due to the heat, its mantle lined with partially melted candles. The majority of the space was taken up by large wooden dining tables, their polished surfaces laden with pitchers and loaves of bread, the places set ready for guests. Only a few of the seats were occupied, the strangers turning their heads to glance at the newcomer.

Caden felt quite out of his element as he made his way over to a counter at the other end of the room, behind which a portly old man was standing, his attention focused on a mug that he was cleaning with a rag. He wore a dirty apron over his tunic, his head shaved bald, the beginnings of a beard failing to conceal his second chin. Behind him were barrels of what was presumably ale, along with a few dusty bottles of spirits with faded labels that were impossible to make out. There was a door to his left that probably led to a kitchen, and to the right of the counter was a staircase that led up to the second storey, where the rooms must be.

As Caden approached, the man glanced up from his work, setting the mug down on the countertop with a clunk. He looked him up and down, not suspicious, but curious. Judging by the number of tables and places, the staff must be accustomed to more visitors, but the calamity had likely reduced the number of travelers who passed through these parts to a trickle.

"What'll it be?" the innkeeper asked.

"A room for the night, please," Caden replied. "Or rather...a room for eight hours. Do you have much in the way of food?"

"Stores are low, but I'll see what I can come up," he replied. "What's your pleasure? Breakfast, lunch, or dinner? These days, there's not much of a difference."

"As hearty a meal as you can manage," Caden said, leaning on the counter. "The road has been long and arduous."

"In this heat, I'm surprised you didn't collapse," the innkeeper remarked. "Very well, young sir. That'll be six crowns."

Caden lifted his purse from his belt, opening the drawstring and fishing inside, setting a stack of six gold coins on the counter. The innkeeper scooped them up, pausing to bite one of them, making sure that it wasn't gold-plated lead.

"Take a seat at one of the tables," he said, "and I'll have your meal brought to you when it's ready."

Caden thanked him, the man exiting through the door to the kitchen. He turned and made his way to one of the tables near the far wall, choosing a seat that put him as far away as possible from the other patrons, pulling up a chair as he shed his pack. He set it by the wall, leaning his staff beside it, sighing with relief as the weight was finally taken off his blistered feet. He raised his waterskin and took a generous swig, then reached into his bag, rummaging for his book on magic. He slapped it down on the table, beginning to leaf through the pages as he waited for his meal, brushing up on his incantations. Unless one of the patrons was a fellow sorcerer, which was extremely unlikely, it shouldn't draw any undue attention.