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4. Cruces Gate-The Monolith
By wrify Posted in Cruces Gate on June 19, 2018 0 Comments 7 min read
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He awoke to the simmering, scorching  glare of the sun. Wincing from thirst he dreaded the very thought of rising to walk. What choice was there? He could lay here and bake himself to death of he could get up and get started. Gritting his teeth he rose and began to stride, limping and weak, toward the speck on the horizon. His contemplation of using the Chrysleat again had been put off when he clearly saw that the speck was now standing out in relief and much closer than he had dared hope, the evening before. In truth, he was afraid that his donor would die if he used the Chrysleat again. So long as he had the energy to rise he would wait and hope that the monolith was more than a gargantuan black rock.

Cursing and wiping black sand from his lips and eyes he started out gauging his distance at less than two miles. In stark disbelief he now recognized that the former speck was a monolith of huge proportion, as jet black as the sand it protruded from. Black on black it was glass-like; almost obsidian in nature, complete with shining facets. It caught the rays of the morning sun, scattering them in all directions. Manmade? He couldn’t be sure; not from this distance. It was, he was glad to see, close to 75 feet tall; at least. Enough height to cast shadows along its length it sat ninety degrees to the path of the sun. This meant there would be shade on one side or the other except for midday. From the angle he stood at he was looking at a corner of the monolith but he could not see one  side. Only the corner of the end-face closest to him and its length as it faded off toward the horizon line. It was unnaturally long it seemed to him. Must be manmade. gotta be!

Distances in a desert are tough to gauge. A heat mirage can easily fool the eye and the mind. The mirror-like shimmer of heat had fooled more than a few men in his straits. On top of this the man was to weak to make quick progress forward. Heat was baking his head and blistering his lips and skin. He had long since forgotten why he had chosen to come this way. But, the monolith supplied him the slimmest of fading hope. Without which, he understood, even the Chrysleat would not save him. His donor on the other end was probably dead and there was no longer a way to acquire a new one. He didn’t, in fact, know if reacquisition of a new donor was even possible. Another small detail left out of his incarceration manual.

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