A blurry landscape flashed into existence beyond the white road, then faded before Vannek could fasten upon any details. The winds on either side of them howled. The lightning had yet to cease its flashing.
“I think it’s getting worse,” Muragan said.
This was so obvious an observation Vannek refrained from comment.
Varama stopped her horse and peered to the void on the left side of the road. Vannek drew up beside her.
Once more the landscape flitted into being, and this time it blurred for a moment, as if seen through drunken eyes, then sprang to life.
Here, in the newborn land, they looked out upon a stretch of ale-colored sands under skies crushed beneath churning storm clouds. A lake so vast no shore could be glimpsed spread out beyond a beach only a few horselengths past the edge of the white road.
Muragan said something Vannek couldn’t hear, for the wind was a roaring beast, blowing with such energy his horse sidestepped.
Varama dug into her belt pack.
“What are you doing?” Vannek asked.
Typically, the alten didn’t answer.
Muragan moved his horse right up to him, stirrups nearly touching. He held the lead lines to their pack horses with an outstretched arm.
A distinctive white crest appeared on the horizon and the turquoise waters beyond the beach did a curious thing—they quietly pulled away, revealing a wider stretch of smooth gray sands.
The roaring around them intensified and Muragan screamed to be heard: “We’ve got to go!”
Varama had her hands in the pouch but had stopped her rummage. A spot of hazy air had appeared only a few feet beyond them, no larger than a shield.
“Are you opening a portal?” Vannek demanded.
Varama’s mouth moved, but Vannek couldn’t hear her.
A dark line of white-topped water sped closer, and the horses danced in worry. Vannek fought to keep his beast still and grabbed one rein of Varama’s, as she seemed oblivious to its intent to flee.
Rather than attending to the nearby dangers, Varama bent the fingers of one hand and used them to stir the air. The shield-sized haze parted and a shaking rift opened. The alten gasped in pain and pushed with her hand. The tear widened. Maybe it was tall enough to ride into.
“Go!” Varama shouted, her sharp bark somehow piercing the din.
Vannek needed no urging, for that fast moving line had grown into a wall of liquid finality. He shouted for Muragan to follow, dropped Varama’s reins, and kicked his eager mount into motion, ducking his head, and disappearing into a different world. Behind him the frightened pack animals whinnied as they were presumably pulled along by Muragan, but he couldn’t tell if Varama joined them. This tunnel differed from the first they’d traveled. It rattled visually with a kaleidoscope of colors, but was eerily quiet after the wave. Vannek struggled for breath in the thin air. Worse, the tunnel’s shining sides shook alarmingly. In vain he searched for a point of exit ahead, and saw nothing. Fury threatened to blind him. This blighted magical experiment would be their end. Varama had driven them to their deaths.