Discipline

  Published by Erik Larson at Smashwords

  Copyright 2010 Erik Larson

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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  Chapter 1: Exile

  They call this exile, but it’s an execution.

  The thought lingered as Lexi peered sun-wise toward the bloated, purple blotch of light behind the clouds. Her home for all sixteen cycles of her life had vanished from sight, the huge, cylindrical top of the clan-hold lost in the clouds of biting sand and dust. On the horizon, she saw a stripe of muddy red between sun and surface. She knew what that color meant; her executioner would come to her in the form of a sandstorm.

  Maybe I’ll be buried so deep they won’t be able to salvage my clothes. The thought gave her a measure of grim satisfaction.

  She blinked back the dust penetrating her veil as the merciless wind buffeted her, rippling her white travel robes. The sound of flapping fabric shuttered her ears to everything else, encompassing her in a noisy silence. Tired of the wind’s assault, she turned and surveyed the way ahead.

  Go directly shadow-wise. The old woman had pressed in so close to whisper the message Lexi had felt the dry lips brushing her ear.

  She put one sandaled foot in front of another as she followed the dim outline of her shadow. Why should I listen to some old bat I don’t even know?

  The sun never moved from its place in the sky, so traveling shadow-wise was only a matter of facing the hazy blob of grey she cast on the sand ahead. A simple task suited her mood, and she found herself following the advice. Wind pushed her as she walked; a conspiring partner to the crone’s words.

  In the clan-hold, the timemaster’s bell sounded every turn to give time meaning and purpose. Here, in the endless expanse of dirt and sand, only the coming and going of storms marked the passage of present into past. Lexi found herself craving the ringing echo of the bell almost as much as her dry throat craved water.

  Every so often, she’d glance back sun-wise, but the ubiquitous sand told her nothing of how far she’d traveled. Only the growing muddy red wall of the storm marked any change in the world. She peered back once again, and this time something had changed. A shape moved among the shallow dunes. She squinted under her veil, trying to protect her eyes as a triangular shape slowly resolved. The sail of a sand-skiff, it has to be!

  As the craft glided over the shallow dunes, she could see the narrow hull on outrigger skis and a single person inside. For a moment she worried that the pilot would be her father, sailing the desert to make sure his bastard daughter had died. No, why would he bother?

  She watched the sail drop, and the skiff slowed to a stop only a dozen feet away. The pilot, covered in white robes like Lexi’s, extracted himself from the rearmost of the two seats. He made his way over to her, his stride confident and purposeful.

  With the wind sucking away words, the man had to yell. “Come with me.” He turned his back and returned to the skiff, not waiting for a reply.

  Lexi surveyed the empty expanse and the growing wall of the storm, and then she hurried after the man. She examined the two narrow seats arranged in tandem with the mast between them—it didn’t look comfortable. Behind the seats, rested a covered bundle well secured with rope, the shape revealing nothing. Though she scarcely believed the tall man could fit, he folded himself into the rear of the two seats and nodded to the front one. After giving him a last glance, she climbed in and gripped the sides.

  From behind her, she heard the grunts of his effort and the big sail rose. The skiff skidded on its skis as the heavy cloth snagged a breath of wind. He angled the sail and they shot forward. When she watched it approaching, the skiff seemed to glide across the sand. Now she knew the smoothness to be a lie as the vibrations and shudders made her clench her hands until they turned white and tingly.

  Ahead, the dunes rushed at her as fast as the wind. She closed her eyes tight, but nothing could shut out the tossing and bumping of her body. Over the wind and the hiss of ski over sand, she heard creaks and groans. It’ll come apart, and we’ll be swallowed whole by the storm. Her heart beat like festival drums, but she savored the terror. Fear meant she had hope for something other than death.

  After the timeless span, she heard another grunt from the stranger and the jarring movements eased. Lexi opened her eyes to see a ragged line of tall rock formations like a set of broken teeth. The world had darkened. She could see scrub-trees among the rocks, their dark leaves pulled into the branches as happened before sandstorms or when the bad spirits came.

  The man jumped out of his seat and offered a hand to Lexi. She took it, feeling the callused skin as he hauled her out. He pointed to one of the rough spires. “There is a cave there; take as much as you can from the skiff while I secure it.” The wind had died down to a breeze ahead of the storm, making his words easy to hear.

  She turned to gather supplies and saw the wall of dust and sand consuming the sky like the maw of a giant beast. Lexi shook off the sight and hurried to the tied-down bundle. She tugged at the knots while behind her she heard a clank of metal as the man set about his task. Her cunning fingers worked the rope free and a gust of wind stole the covering, sending it tumbling through the air. Underneath, laid two worn baskets with rough rope handles. She saw that one carried full water-skins while the other held bags of what she guessed must be food.

  Water first. The roar of the storm gathered, but Lexi ignored it. She had a chore, and if her father’s lash had taught her anything, it was discipline. The narrow cave opening meant she had to squeeze to get her load through to the small cavern beyond. By the time she returned for the second basket, the man had taken off the mast.

  “Stay in the cave!” He yelled over the growing roar.

  The world had fallen into the shadow of the storm and everything turned dim. She wriggled into the cave and watched the darkness. Long moments slipped by as the roar grew and she wondered how loud it could become, if the sound could shake apart the cave and leave her entombed in stone. She worried about the strange man, who had come like an angel out of a story to save her. What if something happened and he needed help? Her heart pounded out a fast beat as she waited, filling her body with an energy that made her want to dart outside.

  “He said to stay, Lexi,” she said to herself. She had to have discipline.

  When the world had nearly turned black, the tall figure appeared in the opening, and he forced himself inside. He collapsed against the opposite wall, breathing hard. Even after he removed his veil, Lexi couldn’t see his features, only a face in shadows and the glint of his dark eyes.

  “Water.” He held out a hand.

  Without thinking, she retrieved a water-skin for him. She found comfort in being commanded and obeying.

  He took a drink and leaned back, his eyes disappearing into the darkness of the cave. “You need water too.”

  Lexi took a water-skin and dribbled a stream into her mouth, feeling her parched throat soak in the moisture. She lowered it, and fell into silence. The man said nothing as the storm raged like a desert demon.

  She opened her eyes and lurched up to a sitting position, realizing she had fallen asleep. The view outside remained a maelstrom of chaos and darkness. On the other side of the cavern, she saw the man’s eyes.

  “You should eat,” he said.

  Her stomach growled in agreement, and Lexi pulled a chunk of redroot from one of the bags. She took a bite and chewed the bitter plant flesh. Questions raced through her mind, but she knew not to talk unless spoken to.

  The man seemed to read her thoughts. “Is there something you want to know?”

  She swallowed. “What do you want?”

  “Why do you suppose I want something?”

  Lexi didn’t want to offend with too many questions, so she picked the most pragmatic. “What happens now?”

  “When the storm clears, I’ll reassemble the skiff and show you how to guide it. There is a place you can go that may have water enough for one person. It is poor hunting ground; I cannot say you will survive.”

  He fell silent again, and Lexi shifted uncomfortably. “I have nothing to offer you in gratitude, but if you want me to…” she gulped, unsure of how to say it, nobody ever told her how. “…be with you like a wife. I’ve been told men find me attractive.”

  “You owe me nothing.”

  She relaxed, but felt a tinge of disappointment. Would she ever have a chance to experience more than the tantalizing hints from her two married sisters?

  They lapsed into silence for a long while, maybe she dosed off again, maybe not—her world of the cavern and the raging storm remained unchanged. Only thirst and hunger marked the passage of time. Frustration crept into her veins and muscles, the howling wind calling to her with the sweet promise of freedom from her stone cage. She fidgeted, twisted, and stretched against the constraining boredom, but she never said a word to the man–discipline. An unearned hatred for him began to simmer, the way he stayed calm, his maddening silence, and the ever-present question he wouldn’t let her ask. Why?

  She became thirsty and she drank careful measures of water, hunger came as well and she ate the bitter redroot, the cycles of eating and drinking counting away the time as the storm kept a constant vigil outside the cave. At times, she wondered if she’d die here, a hostage to the elements. Once again, she c losed her eyes to sleep.

  When Lexi blinked her eyes open, she saw the red light of the sun illuminating the rocks outside, the howling monster of sand and dust gone. A glance around the cavern revealed that the man had disappeared, though the supplies remained in place. Anxious to be outside, she made her way through the narrow opening.

  Wind whipped her robes, forcing her to don her veil against the rough sand. The fat, red sun hung above the horizon where it always did, but with no muddy band of dust below it. She spread her arms and spun around, rejoicing in her freedom from the prison of the cave.

  A sharp clank of metal came from behind some rocks, and she made her way over to investigate. Somehow, the man had reassembled the mast and sail. How did he do that himself? Despite her curiosity, she knew not to disrespect him with unrequested questions.

  “You need to learn how to work the skiff quickly, the storm delayed us and there is little water to spare,” he said. “You only need to travel shadow-wise with the wind, it won’t be difficult.”

  He showed her how to raise and lower the sail, how to angle the boom, and how to steer the front ski. At the clan-hold, only boys learned about sand skiffs–girls didn’t need to. Lexi drank in every word of the forbidden knowledge.

  As she worked the levers to control the front ski one more time, his eyes locked onto hers and he spoke with deliberation. “Do you remember what I’ve taught you? Be sure, your life will depend on it.”

  Lexi nodded.

  “Then go fetch the supplies; you will leave now.”

  When she returned, the man pulled a pouch from one of the baskets, and then squatted down to load water-skins and food. Lexi watched him decide how much to take, sorting out the supplies for them both. Once done, he stuffed one pile into his pouch.

  He stood and pointed to the skiff. “Place the rest in the front seat. Go directly shadow-wise. You will see rocks like this.” He gestured toward the nearby spires. “But it covers a much larger area. There’s an old clan-hold there and the well may produce enough water for a person, maybe not.”

  Lexi wished he sounded more confident. Again, she wondered why he had come for her and, with the hope he’d sense the question in her eyes, she peered up at him. They stared at each other for a long moment, the flapping of robes in the omnipresent wind the only sound.

  “Your father, your true father, was my brother. He saved my life once.” He turned toward the great red ball of the sun, and started his journey back to the clan-hold.

  Lexi wanted to ask more, she knew nothing of her true father–the one put to death shortly after her birth. The questions burned in her mouth, but she bit her lip and stayed quiet–she couldn’t disrespect her savior. Instead, she climbed into the skiff and pulled with all her strength on the rope that raised the sail.

  The wind caught, and she glided across the sand. “Yeeeeeeyaaaaah!” she cried as the might of the sky pushed her over the dunes. Despite her grim prospects, she found herself grinning in the excitement of her freedom. Free. Free to soar the desert to anywhere I like.

  She kept to the man’s instructions. Her skiff may have given her limitless possibilities, but her freedom wouldn’t last long without shelter and water. Time vanished in the expanse of the world and the unchanging light of the sun. Lexi didn’t need a timemaster’s bell however, her water acted like grains in a time-glass. Like a slow-stalking razor cat, fatigue crept up on her as well, making her eyelids heavy. She fought back; taking time to sleep would only make her use more water.

  Finally, she had no choice but to rest, and she lowered her sail. With no place to shelter, she slept inside the skiff and hoped that no desert predator would happen across her. When she awoke, she took another sip from her dwindling water-skin and raised the sail again to be swept away on another timeless journey.

  After two more sleeps, she saw something on the horizon. Rock spires? She angled the sail to edge the skiff’s course toward the hopeful sight. The formations grew with agonizing slowness as she glided closer. When fatigue threatened her once more, she ignored it. I’m so close. She started to blink her eyes against the creeping sleepiness, and the world broke into disjointed slivers.

  Everything tumbled, her body tossed like sand in a storm. She heard snapping and splintering wood before finding herself face down in the sand. A half-dozen paces away, the skiff lay on its side, the mast broken and one of the outriggers sheared off. Further back, she saw the small patch of rock she must have hit in her sleep.

  With care, she got to her feet. Her right shoulder felt stiff and gave a dull pain when moved, but otherwise she felt only aches that no doubt would turn to bruises. No worse than one of my father’s lashings.

  I need to find the water. Her mind put priorities in order with the same thoughtless pragmatism that governed performing her chores. Something small and dark sat atop the sand some distance behind her. She hurried over and saw her water-skin, but a little dark stain next to it made her stomach shrivel. A rip in the side had let the precious liquid bleed away. No water.

  A chill slithered down her skin, leaving hairs standing on end. Lexi suppressed the rising panic, losing her head wouldn’t do any good. She turned toward the rock formations in the distance and started to walk. The hot wind pushed her along as she took one exhausted step after another. Ahead, the spires loomed huge in the red light of the stationary sun. Her throat turned dry and she could taste blood on her cracked lips as she trudged ever closer. Keep moving.

  Chapter 2: Old Tom

  One of Lexi’s feet found a stone, and she stumbled, breaking her mind out of a haze. She glanced about to see two jagged spires standing like sentries at the edge of the garden of rock formations. Ahead, she saw stumpy scrub-trees growing from cracks in the rocks. Their thick, black leaves held moisture, but Lexi knew they had to be cooked or they’d make you sick. She knew plenty about preparing food, one of her many chores.

  A sharp rock to cut the tough leaves off and something to make a fire with would give her moisture. She could carry an armful back to the skiff wreckage and use its wood for fuel. The glimmer of hope gave purpose to her strides and before long she reached the spires. Under her feet, the ground turned from sand into hard stone.

  A sharp rock, your next chore. Rocks laid everywhere, broken off from the towering formations around her. An urge swelled to give up on the scrub-tree leaves and set about finding the clan-hold her true uncle had described. Nevertheless, Lexi kept her discipline and looked to the ground. Within minutes, she found a stone with a good sharp edge and stooped.

  A scraping sound made her freeze, and she spun to find the source. The creature’s camouflage hid it well, but she made out the flat head and broad body of a sand lizard. Five feet long, she guessed, as her gaze ran over the six-legged animal. Large, purple eyes watched her warily as it stayed perfectly still. Sand lizards only ate plants–she knew that much about them–but the hunters said they could still be dangerous. In any event, it wanted the same scrub-tree leaves she needed to live.

  She ran toward it, flapping her arms, and baring her teeth. “Grrrrraaaaaahhhhhhhh!” The big lizard spun like a sand devil and scurried away in a cloud of dust. “And don’t come back!”

  “Look out!” A man’s voice rang off the rocks.

  Lexi darted for cover, and from the corner of her eye spotted something big fly through the place she had just stood. She caught a glimpse of the fangs, muscles, and translucent wings of a razor-cat and sprinted away, slipping through a narrow space between two towering rocks. Behind her, she heard the frustrated howl of the predator. She emerged from the gap into a large open area surrounded by towering spires and spied a narrow curving wind canyon. With the hope of a hiding place, she rushed toward the fissure.

  Inside the shaded passage of wind-smoothed stone, she put her hands on her knees and panted. Girls weren’t taught how to deal with razor-cats, only hunters needed to know that, but she had overheard men talking. The delicate membranes of the wings didn’t let the beasts fly, they used them to cool themselves and a lot of blood flowed through them. Maybe I can cut a wing and make it weak from bleeding.

 

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