Into the rocks

The rocks had manifested themselves as shimmering blurs in the heat and he had had to convince himself that they were real before heading in their direction. It was slow progress, if it was progress at all. His legs were heavy, weighted with exhaustion and lack of hope and drained by the unending heat.

He had been told to keep away from the rocks. It was where they lived, but he could no longer endure the sun. Funny how, before the Slide, he had craved the sun, after living in the wet and damp for so long, but now, the blessed coolness of rain was the stuff of dreams. He craved the shade and some respite. His face was starting to blister, despite his efforts to keep it covered and his lips were taut with dryness. He had no saliva to keep them supple.

The rocks were beginning to rear up from the sands and take their form. Despite his fear of discovery, he was driven by the need to rest to such an extent that he was prepared to face whatever other evil there was between the monoliths.

They appeared close but it still took 45 minutes more to reach them. His energy was dissipating like water evaporating as beam upon beam struck his head, causing it to pound. Never had he been more conscious of his pumping heart than in this heat. He crawled, like a creature, his hands and knees sinking into the separating grains, and considered that if the sand took him into its depths, it wouldn't be such a bad death. He was reminded of Americana where artwork depicted vast landscapes with a single straight road dividing the starkness and at the road's edge, a lone skeleton of a fallen animal, eyeless and soulless. He fought against the image and the unbidden imagining of his body prostrate, sand flickering over him until he is lost - another mound of sand.

And then suddenly, the ground firmed and he felt the indent of small stones on his knees. The pain was welcome, the focus shifting from the sun to the earth. He had been moving with his eyes as slits, pinkness overriding clarity as he squinted. He decided to see if he could stand and reached out to be met with something solid. Breathing slowly as his heart began to race with excitement, he opened his eyes as wide as he could and saw his dark spotted, bony hand spread out on the rough surface of a rock.

The joy he felt was unsurpassable and he felt his face stretch to smile but the parchment nature of his skin, under his beard, meant it was too taut to oblige and his lips screamed with the effort.

Inching himself slowly upright, he kept moving until it went darker and he could open his eyes to see that he had reached the shade that he so desperately craved. Within seconds, he collapsed, unconscious.

***

It was hours before he came to. Something had woken him. His head was still pounding but not from the heat. Dehydration had snuck in to take the place of searing heat exhaustion and the drumming was coming from that, the insistent craving for water coming from his brain. He could hear a skittering like small stones being moved and tried to hone in on it to decipher what it was.

And then he felt a presence over him, a shadow in the shadows and the blissful wet of water on his lips. Just a touch, a drop but enough for his tongue to reach for it in desperation.

"You're alive!" A voice whispered excitedly. But then concern, "But why have you come here? This is no place for you!"

He tried to speak but he did not know how. A grunt escaped him.

"No noise!" The voice hissed. "We need to hide you. But how?"

Scrabbling and then, "Can you move?"

He tried again to say something or shake his head but he could do nothing.

"What to do? What to do? It can't be true! A man who can't move! A shade seeker from the desert!"

He was conscious only of random mutterings and someone moving, like they were pacing near him, dirt crunching with each step.

"I need to do the test. That's it! The test! Concentrate, Fae."

And he felt it. Just a mere tickle but the presence of someone else entering his mind space and reaching for him.

A gasp. "It is him! It is Him!" Excitement and the noise of someone moving quickly from foot to foot, like they were hopping with glee. And then a repetition of "What to do? What to do?" but this time laced with anxiety.

"I must protect! I am the Protector!" The owner of the voice had a child-like enthusiasm which was not lost on him as he lay, still incapable of movement on the sand. The word "Protector" was said with awe.

"Oh, why me? Why me?" And then stillness and silence. And a few moments later, weeping.

Despite his weakness, his first instinct was to reach out and help. He tried to raise his head and attempted to open his eyes. They had crusted over during his sleep and he did not have the strength to lift his arm to rub them free. He would have to try and speak but he was not sure if he could. He tried to clear his throat but there was nothing. His vocal cords had seized like a rusty spring.

The weeping was continuing, not wailing, but a steady sadness.

He was tempted to sink back into unconsciousness but instead tried to focus as best he could on what he thought was happening. He thought that it was a she, whoever had found him. And he had been found, that was certain. She had muttered that he was him, whether with a capital or not, he was not sure, but she was right in that. He was a him.

And then, there was stuff about the protector and how she was this? And this had filled her with both excitement and doubt and now misery. So protecting him must be a difficult thing. He was not in a position to protect himself and so, he could see why she would feel the need to care for him but to protect is something entirely different. He thought about they and the references that had been made obliquely to the race of people who lived in the rocks. Not a lot was known about them but from nothing, myths grow to replace what isn't known and so, they had been formed in people's minds into something and someone to be feared. It sounded like, by the reaction of his companion, that there could be some truth in this. In which case, who was she?

Deep in thought, he had not noticed that the weeping had ceased. A voice spoke as if in reply to his question:

"I am Fae," she said and he felt her get up - she must have been sitting - and move towards him. She was close as she felt his breath on her face. She trickled more water on his lips, and like an elixir, he could feel its revitalising powers.

Fae. He pictured this in his mind and she responded, "Yes. Like that. F-A-E."

Fae. He took some comfort in knowing her name and relaxed. He wished he could have some more water, his stomach handling what little he had been given and he was gratified when the cool liquid landed once more on his lips a second later. It was heaven! He needed to think about moving but he was so weak. Just making it to the shade had taken everything from him. He was not feeling hungry yet but that would come. He sank back into his thoughts, feeling more comfortable than he had in days and was soon asleep.

If he had been able to open his eyes, he would have seen, sitting next to him, gazing at him reverently, a young girl of 10 dressed in pale green rags, holding a small canister of some sort and a small basket next to her containing what he would later learn was rock cheese, a fungus that was edible and grew in the crevices, where it was darkest. Fae was a gatherer, one of the lowliest in the society in which she lived. Kept on the periphery, she was not free but she was freer than most in that she was allowed to roam and forage, bringing back her finds to share with those above her.

It was because of this roaming that she had been able to discover him. Him. Because he was Him, she was sure of it. Which meant that, according to the legend, she was his Protector and must ensure his safety at all costs. But how?

She was overwhelmed by her discovery which is why she had cried. Looking at Him while he slept, she felt ashamed at her weakness but still had the urge to cry, as the enormity of her role as she saw it threatened her. She knew the legend as did everyone and knew that those in power feared the arrival of Him more than anything else. He was the source of the Change and this was feared. She had no-one to advise her, to help her. She was on her own. Except...she had heard Him. Not with her ears but with her mind. And when she had reached out to check, to go into his mind, she had sensed that he was strong and felt a warmth from him, a security. He had heard her! It was that that had brought her over to him again. She had been thinking of running, leaving him, her fear skewing her judgement but she wouldn't. Not now.

But she would have to get back soon with her gatherings or it would be noticed. She was reliable, punctual - it was what kept her alive - but if she deviated from that, it would raise suspicion or worse, restriction, or worse again, punishment and that could not be allowed to happen. She shuddered.

In the meantime, she would need to shield him and she sat, watching Him as he peacefully slept, and wondered how she could do that. And so, in the absence of an advisor, she reached out with her mind, reached for Him and the strength she had perceived there. Perhaps he could help her?

And as he slept, he felt the tickle of Fae's presence again and was comforted by it, not quite realising in his weakened state the link that had been established between them. In his slumbering state, he recognised that she needed something from him and allowed her to take it, the power to protect him which she found in his mental reserves, a magical channel having been created, symbiotic and nurturing for them both. He was not to know at this moment how he would come to rely on the presence of a 10 year old girl to protect him and save him and how she would also rely on him in the same way.

In future days, he would think about how he had headed to the rocks to seek the shade and he had found it. But he was about to discover that the rocks held a whole lot more.

***

This was written in response to a challenge, set by Atomic Historian in the Vocal Social Society group, called the Unintended Fiction Challenge. The task was to enter a single word prompt into Unsplash, choose a picture and then write a fiction piece in response. No other parameters given.

I liked the sound of this and here we are, with something that started as a microfiction but has evolved into what appears to be the first chapter of a book. I might return to this piece to take it up to the 5000 word limit but for now, I've ended it on a cliffhanger of sorts with scope for more. Unfortunately, I have errands to run but I'm throwing it out there to see what you think.

Please leave a comment if you read it. I love to hear from people!