Write at the Merge, Week 7
He trekked across the sands without end. The moon had gone down and the sun was beginning to dawn. He didn’t want to be stuck out here under the merciless sun again. His body had already become covered with sores. His skin like crumpled paper tossed aside. He pulled her shawl tighter against his face and clutched the round bottle closer against his body. As the shawl wrapped around his nose he could smell the sweet odor of roasting meat and wine. He thought of her: her beauty and undying devotion to him, how she had done all she could to give him all he had. It wasn’t far now, pretty soon, he should be able to see the treeline come into view.
Azriel looked ahead into the horizon where the sun was rising with a divine light that flowed upward. There, about twelve miles ahead he could see the black lines shooting up vertically against a canvas of purple and orange light. The trees! Soon, he thought as he shifted his grip on the bottle.
His tongue licked across his face and wiped off the crud of caked sweat in the corners of his chapped lips. He felt what it was, but could not taste it. Where had the sense of taste gone? He sniffed the dry air and thought he smelled the scent of salt, but it was only his imagination. A mirage of the senses. Azriel thought he could smell salt, taste it in the air. The scent of the sea. He was miles away from the sea and there wasn’t any scent out here. He had left the sea and the storm behind him seven days ago. They said it could not be done. But it must, and he ignored his intellect and set out on an act of will. And it was sheer will that kept him going. The dessert was barren of water, fauna and even taste and smell. The sand had no aroma out here. Probably too damn dry, he thought. It didn’t matter. He traversed this void for her, to obtain the elixir needed from the alchemist. He had to get home in time to help.
When he reached the treeline his brother was there. The brothers greeted each other and then, against Azriel’s will, sat at a cafe to take a drink before going on. “I can’t believe you have done it brother. Such a journey is impossible,” his brother said to him. “There was no choice my brother,” Azriel replied as he placed the bottle gently on the table. Just then a dove came and settled on the table. Azriel shooed it away. As the bird flew off, the table quivered. The bottle fell downward and shattered in all directions.
Azriel jumped up in anger and ran forward cursing. His brother grabbed him by the shoulders and held him back. “What’s done is done,” he said, “Now, lets get home to her before it is too late to even say good-bye.”