A Veteran Returns Home: Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Sheer rock rose either side of Nemo. A chill wind wormed through the valley and the shadows cast by the cliff faces chilled the air. He pulled his scarf tight around his neck. It would be a cold night in the desert.
Nemo could see the tracks of the five men he had killed, and the one who got away, there were no others. Unused path. Explains the empty buildings. He hoped the valley opened up to somewhere just as empty, but without the soldiers.
Atars plodded on unwilling to speed through the narrow valley wide enough for only two men.
‘At least you came back. Would have been in quite the predicament had you not,’ Nemo said while patting Atars’ neck.
Atars snorted back, mist rising from his nostrils.
‘Glad you agree.’
He rode on. The sound of Atars’ hooves echoed through the valley and caught on whistling wind.
The valley stretched on. It narrowed further where only one person could walk.
‘I hope it doesn’t get any thinner, I have much further to travel and I would rather not be alone. Nor on foot,’ Nemo mused coaxing Atars onward with liberal use of pressure to his ribs.
Atars reared his head at the narrowing crevice path.
‘Hey, there is far further left to go and likely difficult challenges ahead. You need to start living up to your name,’ Nemo scolded the horse prodding him with his heels and snapping the reins.
Atars neighed and carried on with less enthusiasm than before.
‘You gotta keep going. My kids will love you and my wife will finally stop pestering about the danger of rented horses. “What if they are shoed wrong. What if they are older than the loaner tells you.” What if… What if… What if.’
Atars ears perked up.
‘See you know you’re better than those horses already. And you will get treats,’ Nemo rustled Atars’ mane.
The horse nodded and whinnied.
‘But first we have to get there,’ Nemo reminded his treat distracted horse.
Atars cantered a few steps along the narrow, winding, path.
Nemo covered his eyes as a blade of light pierced the valley from afar. The end? He thought, heart beat rising. Through the slit in the jagged rock was the sight of a pristine white stone wall on the horizon and the rich blue sky of the late afternoon.
With destination in sight Nemo urged Atars onwards but the horse pulled back at the ever narrowing valley.
‘Come on. It isn’t that narrow,’ he said.
Atars sniffed and refused to move.
‘Fine. I will show you,’ Nemo dismounted and held onto the reins.
He let the length of the reins fall through his fingers and held onto the ends as he approached the narrowing path. Either side the cliff face rose to the sky. A thin strip of blue peaked in from the top with saw like edges.
Nemo sighed and searched for the gap in the rock. He leaned to the left and found the opening through the rock to the city of Ramascus.
‘Come on,’ he said and started through the narrowest stretch of the valley path.
Atars yanked the reins back as Nemo strode deeper in. Nemo pushed himself past a jut of rock without turning his torso. Atars made a single step towards him.
‘You’ll need a few more than that,’ Nemo called from the other side, the reins pulled tight in hand.
Atars snorted. One hoof hovering in the air.
‘Seriously, you’ll fit. Easily,’ Nemo tugged on the reins with gritted teeth.
Atars relinquished and bobbed his head through the narrowing valley path. The rock face either side mere inches from his flanks.
‘See, what did I tell you,’ Nemo said ignoring the closeness of the valley walls. He rubbed Atars’ muzzle and scratched between his ears.
The horse perked up and sniffed at Nemo’s hair.
‘Now let’s get to Ramascus,’ Nemo said pulling himself into the saddle.
The pair continued through the valley path. The rock cliffs widening with each step. Nemo squinted against the blade of light falling across his face, ever growing in the distance. The white walls of Ramascus beamed off the darkening blue of the sky behind. A patch of rich greens stretched from the walls outward and disappeared behind the valley rock cliff still encasing Nemo and Atars.
But he was not there yet, the valley turned away from Ramascus.
Winds rustled through the valley whipping sand in curls around Atars’ legs. Nemo pulled the scarf tighter to his neck the chill of the shade and wind biting through the thick spun cloth.
Nemo came to a twist in the path. The city of Ramascus bleeding through a crack in the mountain and his path taking him south-west. This was a mistake, Nemo thought as the dark passage beckoned. Maybe the valley turned back northward, or maybe it carried on to the Endless Sea.
‘Well, nothing else for it,’ Nemo urged his mount down the path with only hope to guide him.
Shadow and darkness greeted them both. Chill winds and whipping sands attacked them from all sides. We can’t turn back. Only the Wastes and Republic soldiers lie that way. Only the path ahead was an option.
The caw of a carrion feeder repeated above them. The long wings of some brown feathered bird tracked him, or the horse, or both, through the valley path. The bird circled and cawed again. Was it calling for others or warning Nemo of something? He carried on.
Sand spun around a turn in the path. Sloping piles grew up the sides of the wall only to tumble down when they reached too far up. The scraggy outline of the evening sun stretched on the ground at the turn ahead. Fingers of light receding with each second.
Nemo clicked at Atars and tapped his neck with the reins. The horse cantered towards the turn in the path. Heart racing he stretched forward in the saddle. Warm winds hit him and he grumbled as he was blinded. He covered his eyes from the sight and ducked back behind the rock wall.
Atars carried on and followed the corner round. Nemo opened one eye through spaced fingers and felt the warmth of the sun on his eyelid. The white walls of Ramascus stretched from horizon to horizon. The green fields of fertile land rolled from the base of the mountain path to the walls. People tilled the fields in the light of the city. The walls reflecting the light of the dying sun. Above the main gate, that towered above most buildings, let alone men, flew the owl atop a mountain of the Republic of Thesus. The flag stained the white walls of Ramascus with its blue dye and brown rope stretching it from the turrets atop the wall.
Nemo lowered his hand and stroked Atars, ‘We made it. Now to get through it,’ he rode down the shadowed mountain path winding in a coil to the farmland below bathed in the gleaming light of Ramascus, once theological capital of the world now mere pawn of the Republic.
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