Ibn Sharjar: The wheel finds the way
Posted on 31 Jul 2023 @ 10:36pm by Atif ibn Sharjar - Merchant of the Al Ashar
Edited on on 31 Jul 2023 @ 10:59pm
Mission:
Ongoing Mission - Planet Obsidian
Location: Obsidian - plains of glass
Timeline: M3 D12 1545hrs
2715 words - 5.4 OF Standard Post Measure
Ibn Sharjar had descended into a grim, dark little world, his focus on just two things, trying not to throw up and trying to keep watch on the two lads he rode alongside. The hours of lurching and bouncing around as the Eraulsu furiously galloped southwards had left him feeling battered and nauseous. His hands ached from gripping the reins tightly, the storm was a constant hail of grit and shards. The noise from the storm and thundering beetles pounded in his ears and he could see little but shifting shadows through his glasses and the swirling dust. Turning his head to the right he could make out the shape of Sasil and Gabril on Hrada’s back, but beyond that no details could be seen.
He looked forward and suddenly the Eraulsu in front of him became much clearer, he started to wonder why, then realized it was slowing, and quickly!
He hauled back on Fifta’s antenna reins, digging in with the spurs on his shoes. The beetle jerked upwards, dropping her rear, slamming her first set of forelegs forward and skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with the carapace of the one in front. She bucked and snorted at the indignity of the emergency halt.
The pattern repeated itself all along the column as it ground to a stop, there were several collisions and bumps, Beetles screeched and bellowed as their riders fought to keep control. The column was now stationary, the dust and girt swirled over them, the noise only slightly less than when riding.
Ibn Sharjar got Fifta settled and tapped his left spur in, moving her over to Hrada until he could shout to the boys.
“Are you ok?” He yelled, feeling his voice torn away by the storm and he reached out and tapped Sasil on the shoulder. The figure lifted a hand and gave him a wave, and shouted something back though he could not make it out. Now they sat there, practically blind and almost deaf.
A few minutes later, between the gusting sheets of dust, he saw a rider moving along the column, the figure stopped at each row and leaned into the outermost rider. Seemingly calling something to them and then moving on. A moment later the figure reached him, brought his mount in close and leaned inwards towards him. Ibn Sharjar matched the move.
“We have lost the path!” The man shouted “We must form the wheel, be ready! Tell your row!”
Ibn Sharjar barely heard the words and did not understand them, but before he could shout a question the rider had moved on. He swung around in his saddle but the figure was already out of earshot in the storm.
He did not know what to do, if they had lost the path of rocky cairns, then they could be anywhere on the desolate black plains. What did he mean by form a wheel?
With no option, he did as instructed, leaned over to Sasil and Gabril and repeated the message. Sasil gave him an affirmative handsign and passed the message on to the next rider, while Ibn Sharjar sat there, buffeted by the storm and wondered what was happening.
A rider from the row behind came up alongside and gestured to him, he leaned over and heard a voice he recognized, it was Bredul, the young girl’s father from earlier that morning.
“Atif, we must find the path!” he shouted over the storm. “We will form the wheel, with a line of Eralsu. Then we will turn on the hub until we find a cairn! You understand?”
Ibn Sharjar heard the words but did not comprehend their meaning. “No, what do I do?” he shouted back.
Bredul tried again. “We form a line! Like a wheel spoke!” He pointed to his own beetle, then to Ibn Sharjar’s and others nearby, miming with his hands the creatures moving to form a line. “Then the wheel turns! " He swung his arm, like a wheel spoke rotating "The hub stays still! We turn until we find a cairn! It is the only way!”
Ibn Sharjar sought to understand, he tried to visualize what Bredul was showing him and finally grasped the plan. It seemed like they would spread out the column into a single line, then move the line in a circle around the innermost rider. Like a wheel turning around a hub, they could cover a large area while staying in contact and not getting lost further.
“Yes, yes!” he shouted back “I understand!”
“Good!” Bredul yelled back “But you must stay in sight of both riders to each side! Wait for the signal to move and then walking pace only! Do not leave the line! If you do you will die!”
“I understand!” The warning was clear, in the storm, any rider who lost sight of the line or their companions was lost.
A few minutes later he glimpsed movement, the riders in the rows ahead of them were moving off to the left. When it was his turn, he followed on, checking that Hrada was behind him, he tapped his spurs and Fifta lumbered forward.
Out of the dust came a line of Eraulsu, they were spreading out to his left, perhaps six or seven meters apart, maybe twenty feet. Any more than that and they would be invisible in the storm. He followed the rider ahead of him down the line until that person was the last one, and took their place, he walked Fifta on a few more paces, keeping his eyes on the now stationary rider. When he reached the right distance, he moved her into place on the line and stopped. Sasil and Gabril on Hrada moved past him.
“Stay close!” he shouted to them, flicking his head from side to side to try and keep them and the rider to his right in sight.
The storm was picking up, grit and shards filled the air, he could feel the dust cloaking his throat and longed for drink. A thick cloud swirled over him and glancing to the sides neither Hrada or the other Eralsu were visible, suddenly he felt very alone. He resisted the urge to move, to go looking for them, if he lost his place in the line, he would never find it again.
It was probably only a minute or so, but the seconds lasted hours before there was a brief lull and he spotted more riders moving down the line, passing before him and those to his left and right became visible again. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, nearly coughing on the dust.
But then he realized this whole process was taking a long time, it had been a least ten, maybe fifteen, minutes since the column had halted and they had not yet begun the search pattern.
Yet out here, in the midst of a grit storm, nothing could be hurried, every move had to be methodical and planned, rushing could kill them all.
But if they wasted too much time, the impending solar flare would be equally deadly!
After a few more minutes, no more riders rode past his position. Watching to his right, between the gusts of grit, he thought he heard a muffed shout and saw Hrada finally begin to walk forward. He waited a few seconds, turned to his left, yelled as loud as he could into the storm, waved his left arm high and nudged Fifta forward. He gave a gentle tap with his right spur to track her slightly left.
Looking from side to side, keeping Hrada in sight, he saw the stationary rider to his left raise their arm in response and they also began to walk forward, passing the signal off to their left, towards the center of the line, the hub of the wheel.
Pushing slowly forward, into the storm, Ibn Sharjar could do nothing but continually monitor his position in relation to Hrada on his right and the Eralsu to his left, those were his only reference points now in the maelstrom of grit and shards. A few times dense clouds of grit cut him off completely, undermining his confidence and testing his nerve, but he kept Fifta plodding slowly forward in a left-hand curve and after a moment both of his outriders would become visible again.
He knew that somewhere, out to his right, in the hellish storm, was the last rider on the spoke, they had only one other Eralsu to guide them, the rider to their left, and they had to also search for a cairn. If they became distracted in the storm or lost from sight, they would ride off and never be found. He did not envy that rider their task.
He tried to work out how far the line stretched, he was not sure of their total numbers, fifty or sixty maybe, but it would be somewhere between three or four hundred meters long, a tiny measurement out here on the vast glass plains.
He plodded onwards, heading directly into the wind blowing out of the north now, Fifta curled her antenna flat, and pulled her head back into her carapace as she plodded onwards. Ibn Sharjar tucked his chin in, feeling the grit tearing at his mask and clothing, but he kept his head moving left and right, keeping sight of his companions.
The slow rotation continued, he had no idea now of how far they had walked or for how long, he was completely disorientated, they could have gone around three times for all he knew. Then he heard a cry over the wind and the rider on his left was closing on him, the figure was gesturing, pointing beyond Ibn Sharjar.
“We must extend the wheel!” he heard a woman’s voice from behind the rider’s mask and robes. “We have not found a cairn yet! Go out as far as you dare but keep me in sight! Tell the next rider.”
Ibn Sharjar waved to her and nudged Fifta to the right, extending the distance between them until he came up on Sasil and Gebril.
“Are you alright?” he shouted to them.
“Yes Atif” Sasil yelled back. Gebril was tucked in behind his brother and gave a wave “How much longer?”
“I do not know, we must extend the line further. Ride out a little more but keep me in sight! Pass the message.”
Sasil steered Hrada to the right and moved away. Ibn Sharja watched them go, flicking back to check on the woman on his left. When he looked back for Hrada, there was no sign, his heart jumped in his mouth and he was about to urge Fifta after them, Jelik had entrusted him with his sons and he could not loose them in the storm.
Just as he readied to push Fifta forward, he caught sight of their beetle in through the dust. Despite the wind he was sweating under his robes with the tension of events.
The slow plodding rotation continued, even more dangerous than before, with the line of riders extended to the very limits of visibility. The storm howled and tore at them as they searched. Again Ibn Sharjar lost track of time, only aware that the solar flare was rushing across the system towards them. Aboard his ship he would be protected, if needed he had medicine to combat the effects of the radiation, but out here on the glass, nowhere was safe.
Scanning left and right he noticed Hrada had stopped and Sasil was waving to him. Instantly he stopped Fista, shouting and waving to the woman on his left, barely glimpsed through the flying grit, but he saw her stop and pass along the signal.
Moments later a rider came from the right, cantering past, he heard them shout “We have found a cairn! Stay here until the line moves to you!” then they were gone.
A few minutes later a group of riders approached from his left, picking up the extended line and forming back into a column as they came. He fell into a row and they moved onwards, collecting Sasil and Gebril next. Working they way down the line they moved up to the last rider, who was standing next to one of the stone cairns.
Ibn Sharjar had not noticed on the outward journey, but the cairn had stones marked with symbols and presumably they pointed out different directions. For no sooner had they reached it, than the rider confidently pointed an arm and the column wheeled onto that heading.
The pace swiftly increased and soon they were back at the lurching, pounding, gallop, racing across the glass in search of safety, the storm on their heels.
Perhaps twenty minutes later the sky began to lighten, the hailstorm of girt steadily lessened and eventually they broke out of the dust cloud, which roiled and swirled behind them. Ibn Sharjar looked around, like himself the riders and their mounts were covered in the dirty gray grit dust, they robes marked and scuffed and torn.
Though out of the storm, there was no relief, for now they were under the full intensity of the afternoon sun. The burning white heat slammed into them, the glass shimmered with heat haze reflections as they galloped along.
Ibn Sharjar reached up and wiped the dust from his glasses, peering ahead, trying to make out anything he could remember from the day before, besides the next cairn, but the horizon was one silver lake of reflection and haze, it was nearly impossible to make out any landmarks. He peered closer, squinting and perhaps thought he could make out a slight rise, but no sooner did he focus on it, than it was washed away in the shimmer.
They rode on, even faster now, Fifta and the other Eralsu snorting with exertion. When next he looked ahead, the rise was more prominent and stayed put above a smear of silver distortion. It could be the hill at the north end of the oasis he thought. “By the prophets let it be so” he prayed silently.
The distance lessened and the rise turned more solid, a brownish rocky outcrop and beyond it, at the limit of vision he could just make out the thin stalk of what must be the central watchtower of the oasis.
A cry went up and was picked up by all, a triumphant yodeling eyahhhh!
The column swung left and raced along the rim top above the oasis, heading for the entrance gateway. Soon he could see the stone wall that formed the ramparts and the small watch tower above them. As the column arrived, the heavy wooden gates swung open, slowing down to a walk the riders began to pass through.
As Ibn Sharjar rounded the rampart he pushed up his glasses and facemask, spitting out the dust and grit that had coated his throat. He looked to his side, Sasil and Gebril were there, grinning to him with grubby sweat lined faces.
“Ho! We are home” Jelik arrived, Khasta dusty and panting “But we must still hurry indoors before the sunstorm falls! There is not much- ”
His voice trailed off, up ahead, just inside the gate was another group of riders, perhaps a dozen of them, in unfamiliar robes. Several were dismounted and were talking with Tej-Gebran and two of the tribal elders.
“Who are they?” He called to a man on the wall.
“Traders, they say there are from Ruj-Hadha Oasis” the man replied “They arrived just before you, they are requesting Sunstorm Truce”,
“Huh, that is their right” Jelik nodded “and our honor to grant.” He glanced upwards “Best they hurry though.”
Ahead Tej-Gebran and one of the newcomers nodded, shook forearms and patted each other on the shoulder, clearly having reached agreement.
Ibn Sharjar had leaned back to retrieve his water bag and after taking a swig, he glanced forward, just as the lead stranger turned back. Their eyes locked and he saw a face he recognized. The last time he had seen that face, its owner had been pounding a bloody hand onto his cockpit window!
