Ibn Sharjar: "The Pillar of the Moon"
Posted on 29 Apr 2023 @ 3:11am by Atif ibn Sharjar - Merchant of the Al Ashar
Edited on on 16 Jun 2023 @ 11:21pm
Mission:
Ongoing Mission - Planet Obsidian
Location: Northern Lethani Deadlands
Timeline: M3 D11 1500Hrs
1876 words - 3.8 OF Standard Post Measure
The column of Eralsu filed through the narrow gorge as it rose steeply upwards the rim, to Ibn Sharjar it appeared to be a natural fissure in the giant cliffs of obsidian, here and there it appeared to have been widened to allow two of the beetles to move side by side. The vertical sides of the gorge left the track in shade, but soon it climbed up into the early morning sunlight. There was not a cloud in the sky and within hours Loki would be beating done with the full force of its malevolent glare.
At the top the track passed through a set of ramparts, thick walls of stone and glass, there was a small watch tower, like the one on the hill in the middle of the oasis. A set of heavy wooden gates, bound with iron bands blocked the track. The wood was old and dark, appearing almost petrified. Two figures came out of the tower, pushing the gates apart to allow the column to leave. They waved to the youngsters as they passed “Choose your stars wisely, wear them with honor!” one called.
The procession moved through the gates and out onto the great northern plain of the Lethani Deadlands. Ibn Sharjar had only seen the area from orbit, and several days ago on their approach to the Oasis of the Nine Stones. Riding out on it was a very different experience than observing it from with the safety of a spaceship.
As soon as they turned out from the gates, out from the shelter of the rock ramparts, the wind rolled into the column, hot, dry and steady. It came from the South and was blowing Northwards, it carried dust and tiny chips of glass. Ibn Sharjar could feel it nipping at his face. Before them was a wide open expanse of nothingness, the ground was a flat dark gray black, here and there was a smooth glassy patch, but much of the surface was scuffed and cracked. In many places there were tiny ripples of dust, sand and glass, almost like the patterns of sand on the tideline of a beach. The flat featureless gray plain stretched out to the horizon in every direction, an unending featureless desert of obsidian.
The column came to a brief stop as the riders prepared themselves for the journey. Ibn Sharjar stared around, the vista was both beautiful and unnerving, the open flatness without features made him wonder how one gauged distance or navigated over such a land without technical equipment. He was quietly awestruck to be out here, on such a different desert to the rest of the planet he had experienced, with its more traditional sand and dunes and jebels.
“Atif” Jelik called to him, he was holding up his mask. “Put yours on now, even in a light breeze the glass will cut your skin” he warned and with his own mask showed ibn Sharjar how to place it on and buckle the straps before bringing up his hood and covering his head.
Ibn Sharjer followed suit, removing his eye protection first, then replacing it over the mask and wrapping the tails of his shemag around his head.
“How long do we travel” he called to Jelik
“Most of the day, we will reach the Pillar of the Moon late this afternoon” The tribesman replied, double checking his waist strap and reins
Around them the rest of the column was similarly preparing for the journey, then there was a shout from the front and they set off.
Ibn Sharjar dug back with the rear tips of his spurs, tapping into the joint between the plates on the beetle’s neck. Fifta jolted forward, getting all of her six limbs in to order and humped along in the rolling Eraulsu gait. Ibn Sharjer settled himself into the saddle, letting his feet relax in the stirrups, gloved hands loosely holding the reins. Once the column was all moving they steadily increased the pace, riding side by side, closing up the gap, with a couple more spur taps the beetles extended their stride and settled into what Ibn Sharjar imagined was their cruising speed, a fast scuttling cross between a lope and canter.
Leaving the ramparts and gates quickly behind them the column set off across the plain of obsidian. At first Ibn Sharjar wondered how the leaders were finding their way, then after some thirty minutes he noticed they passed a cairn. It was a roughly two-meter tall pile of large chunks of glass, stacked and arranged in a sort of cone shape. Thirty minutes later they passed another, nudging Fifta left a little out of line he peered ahead, right in the distance he could see a tiny nub on the flat gray horizon, of what was presumably the next one and indeed they passed it as expected.
The journey starched out, hour after hour, passing cairn after cairn, the Eralsu seemingly tirelessly covering the empty kilometers. The sun rose steadily in the sky, climbing on their right. Within a couple of hours he could feel the heat building, the automatic setting on his glass slowly increased the tinting. The steady motion of Fifta underneath him was not hard, the saddle was well padded and he felt secure between the high pommel and cantle, he had heard tribesmen could ride for days like this, dozing in the saddle as their mounts crossed many reaches of desert.
As Loki climbed in the sky, so too did the wind, what had been a gentle breeze earlier was now a strong zephyr. He knew it was al to do with heat zones, the glass heated up creating thermals, which encountered cooler air nearer the pole and created the ever present blowing draught across the plains. As the wind increased so too did the amount of grit in the air. He could feel it now on his clothing, a constant peppering of sand and bits of glass. He was thankful for his heavy Thawb, head covering and mask, any bare skin would have been rubbed raw in minutes. He hunched down in the saddle, tucking his neck into his shoulders as the wind steadily increased during the early afternoon.
After some five hours the column began to slow, swinging out in an arc to the right and dropping down to a walking pace. He looked to the side, just ahead was what looked like a depression in the glass, a rough area, perhaps the opening of a fissure or chasm, there was a larger cairn beside it. The lead riders reached the edge and dismounted, leading their Earulsu downwards into the hole. When it was their turn Ibn Sharjar and Jelik unstrapped their waist belts and dismounted, taking Fifta’s reins he followed Jelik down into the depression, it was as he suspected a fissure in the glass. A roughly oval opening, perhaps thirty meters long and maybe ten meters at its deepest, it was slightly domes, the lower parts wider that the top. Millions of years ago it had probably been a bubble of gas within the volcanically formed obsidian that had pushed its way to the surface as the glass cooled, leaving this opening.
As they dropped down they entered some shade and were out of the biting gritty sting of the wind. Around them the tribesmen were removing their mask and gloves and reaching for their canteens.
Jelik spotted his sons and they went over to join the boys. “Eat and drink” Jelik instructed them “This is only a short stop, we will ride again in a few minutes”
Ibn Sharjar removed his gloves, and mask, pushing the glasses and shemag back off his face. He hauled a water bag from Fifta’s saddle, unscrewed the nozzle and took a long draft. The water was cool and refreshing, he could taste the slightly salty trace from the isotonic additives the replicator had added. He held it out to Jelik, the man took the bag and drank, smiling when he found the water to be cold.
“That is good Atif” he laughed “Cool like the oasis in the early morning.” He smacked his lips ‘But it has an odd taste…. “ he tried another mouthful “Not unpleasant, but.. different”
Ibn Sharjar explained “A machine on my ship makes the water, it adds salts and minerals to help your body when out in the heat and you sweat a lot”
Jelik thought this over nodding. “Ah I understand, my father has powders that do the same, when you are very thirsty”
They each pulled some food from their packs, Ibn Sharjar a protein bar, Jelik and his sons some Chucaki biltong. “Coem I will show you something” Jelik gestured ibn Sharjer over to the side of the fissure as he chewed on a strip of dried meat.
He led the way to the wall and pointed downwards, there was a narrow channel cut into the glass, it led down the fissure towards the bottom. Ibn Sharjar followed the line of it, at the end there was a square hole cut in the glass, perhaps a meter on each side, they walked down to it. Peering in he was surprised to see, some three meters below, the surface of open water. The hole was some kind of well? He asked as much.
“It is a cistern, a catchment” Jelik explained “At night the glass is cold and sometimes a dew will form on it, when it does it runs down the walls into the channel and pools here. It is not the best water, but it is drinkable and more importantly it will keep you alive!”
There was a shout and everyone began to get ready to depart. Ibn Sharjer quickly finished his protein bar, washed it down with a swig of water and got ready to remount. Stuffing a stick grass ball into Fifta’s jaws just before he did so.
A few minutes later they were back out on the obsidian plain and heading northwards again, passing the cairns one by one. There was no refuge from the sun and wind now, the afternoon wore, on as grit and heat pummeled the column. Ibn Sharjar was hot, dusty and weary, the heat was oppressive and the constant trashing of the sand was becoming tiresome. He settled into a sort of nodding rhythm as Fifta skuttled along, his thoughts drifting as they ate up the distance, almost dozing off.
He came awake thinking he had heard a cry. It came again and he looked to Jelik alongside him. The man was pointing ahead of them. Ibn Sharjar followed the gesture, out on the horizon was a dark smudge, it jutted upwards, much higher that the cairns. Within minutes the shape became clearer, it was some kind of outcrop in the obsidian, steep sided and flat on top, he tried to guess the size, but out here it was hard to judge scale. It was perhaps a kilometer across at the base, maybe five hundred meters high.
“The Pillar of the Moon!” Jelik called to him “Soon we shall see the stars!”
