The sun's rays bore down upon us with unrelenting intensity, casting a searing heat upon the desert landscape. Not a single cloud graced the sky to offer respite from its scorching blaze. The nickname "Desert of Bodies" suddenly made sense in the face of this harsh environment. My waterskin felt alarmingly light as I brought it to my parched lips, savouring every precious drop. The crimson sand slid and shifted beneath our feet as we trekked across the dunes, each step feeling like a battle against the arid terrain. Ahead of us stretched a seemingly endless sea of dunes, leading to our destination: Kharisa, the Oasis City. But reaching Kharisa would demand more than mere determination; it would demand survival.
Kharisa had always been a subject of fascination, even though my access to information about it had been forbidden. I defied those restrictions, hungry for knowledge beyond the boundaries placed upon me. The image of Kharisa had been etched into my mind: a city with towering skyscrapers that seemed to touch the heavens, adorned with stained glass windows that painted the surroundings with a myriad of rainbows. Some accounts personified Kharisa as a haven where happiness flourished, while sorrow, poverty, and despair could not linger for more than a week. It was a reward that awaited those who crossed half the desert, if they could find it amidst the unforgiving sands.
"I should've brought more water," Wren's voice broke the silence, her words a stark reminder of our harsh reality. I realised this might be the first time she had spoken since we entered the desert. "It's unbearably hot. When will nightfall come?"
I extended three fingers, signalling my response to her query. Nightfall would offer reprieve, albeit temporarily. The desert's embrace might loosen its grip once the sun sank below the horizon, but the nights brought their own challenges and dangers. In this arid expanse, survival was a constant struggle, and Kharisa remained our distant beacon of hope.
A soft groan escaped Wren's lips, accompanied by her lament, "I'm not sure if I'll be alive by the time three hours pass, but it's too late to turn around now." I couldn't help but chuckle at her somewhat childish response. "A laugh from Asara the Emotionless? I didn't know that was possible," she remarked, nudging me with her elbow. I rolled my eyes in response. It was a peculiar thing, laughing with a human. Wren seemed to exude an unusual air about her – a carefree spirit more accustomed to a life without the threat of imminent danger. Her behaviour reflected a confidence that mortality was a distant concept, quite contrary to my own worldview.
Zershoon joined us on my other side. "It's nice seeing you happy. I know Wren isn't your ideal companion," he signed.
I nodded slightly in agreement, responding through my own signs, "She's not, but she's pulling her weight, and for now, that's all that matters."
Wren, clearly sensing a growing sense of exclusion, offered, "I can travel ahead to see if there's any cacti. I sort of know what they look like. And they have water."
Her voice bore a tinge of disappointment, a sensation familiar to me from my own past experiences of being left behind. I reached for my pencil and paper, a realisation dawning upon me that my supply was dwindling with the addition of Wren to our journey.
I need to acquire more paper soon; Wren's presence has certainly increased its consumption.
"Return if you sense anything amiss. Don't stray too far from the path," I wrote, extending the sheet of paper to her.
Her fingers brushed against mine as she took the paper. With her bow slung over her shoulder, she bounded ahead of us, her hair swaying slightly with each step. She turned eastward before pivoting back to the west. Another chuckle emerged involuntarily as I watched her antics. Wren was undoubtedly a strange one, defying convention and surprising us with her uniquely spirited demeanour.
Wren's exuberant voice filled the air as she continued to move ahead, her words punctuated by a deep inhalation, "Everywhere looks the same, I don't know which direction to go—" She spun around before adding with undaunted optimism, "Well, that's okay! I'm sure we'll find a cactus soon!" Her spirit was both baffling and refreshing, a stark contrast to the arid environment around us.
As she ran ahead once more, she glanced back at me, her voice carrying to where I stood, "Don't worry, Asara, we'll get water soon!"
It was a somewhat amusing notion, her thinking that I could be worried. After all, what could go wrong, as long as we exercised caution and adhered to our plan?
A few more hours slipped by, the sun's warmth shifting to our backs as it began its descent below the horizon. The temperature dropped with the fading light, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day.
My gaze turned toward Wren, her pace noticeably slowing as the hours passed. Strands of her hair clung together on her sweat-slicked skin. I conceded that, despite my scepticism, she had managed to keep up with us fairly well.
A blue hand came to rest on my shoulder, drawing my attention to Zershoon. His usually elegant hair was now damp and dishevelled, evidence of the fatigue we were all experiencing.
"We should rest for the night. I'm not sure any of us can keep going," Zershoon signed, his shoulders drooping under the weight of his backpack.
I nodded, agreeing with his suggestion. "You're right. I'm exhausted," I signed back, my fingers trembling slightly from the strain. "And it would be best not to start a fire. We don't want to attract unwanted attention," I added, recalling the danger posed by the vicious sand alligators we had encountered earlier.
Zershoon's inquiry followed, his fingers forming signs that conveyed curiosity, "What types? I assume you've come through here before, considering you know how and where to walk."
"I have traversed this desert before. The most significant threat is the Desert Wyrms. They possess a heightened sense of heat and dominate this arid expanse," I conveyed, my hands forming signs with purpose. Pausing, I resumed, "The other menace would be the sand alligators. Similar to dire wolves, they roam in sizable packs and engage any adversary, regardless of the odds."
Turning my attention toward Wren, who was still trailing behind us, I assessed her progress. "One of us will need to teach her how to navigate properly. Otherwise, she won't survive long," I signed, my concern for her well-being evident.
Placing my backpack on the ground, I settled beside it and sighed deeply. Zershoon raised his hands briefly before lowering them, his gaze reflecting a hint of disappointment. With a resigned exhale, he shifted his focus to Wren, who had finally caught up.
Wren's voice carried across the desert breeze, her teeth chattering as she spoke, "Are we camping here for the night? It's a bit chilly out here. I'll start up the fire for us."
Zershoon intercepted her actions, stopping her from taking too much firewood out. He handed her a piece of paper, likely the one he had written on before her arrival. Her eyes scanned the message, and upon finishing, she nodded in comprehension. However, beneath her smile, there was a fleeting glimpse of something more sombre, quickly masked from Zershoon's view.
Curiosity about her inner thoughts lingered within me, wondering what pain she concealed behind that facade.
"It's a wise decision," she said, her voice laced with a soft laugh as she drew her knees closer. "I wouldn't want to be running from anything today or tomorrow."
I lowered my gaze, watching the grains of sand shift and dance beneath my tapping foot. A thought meandered through my mind – would I find Kharisa this time? My parents had dreamt of visiting it, and a mix of guilt and sadness stirred within me. I can't escape their memories, no matter where I go. I sighed inwardly, the weight of their absence tugging at my heart.
The resonance of Zershoon's guitar strings drifted through the air, pulling my attention back to the present. The melancholic chords seemed to lift away my sadness, but the guilt still clung to me like a shadow. I imagined my mother's reaction to his music, picturing her trying to cajole him into joining the band she had always dreamed of starting. A soft chuckle escaped me at the thought before I settled down and laid back, surrendering to the pull of exhaustion. Zershoon's musical serenade acted like a lullaby, soothing me into a much-needed sleep.
======================
Chilled gusts of wind brushed against my face, yet the sensation felt strangely disconnected from me. I turned my gaze downward, only to find myself observing the endless expanse of the desert stretching out before me. The dunes took on fluid shapes as a wyrm slithered gracefully across the sands. Oddly, a surge of intense anger surged through me at the sight of the wyrm, an overwhelming desire to obliterate it.
My attention was then drawn further ahead, where the distinct melody of a guitar resonated through the air. The notes reached me with such clarity, as if the musician were right beside me, although I was soaring high above the ground. My senses focused on the approaching wyrm, its intent becoming clear—it was heading for the blue-skinned tiefling I had encountered in the forest. Instinctively, I quickened my wingbeats, driven by an urgent need to reach them before the wyrm did. I couldn't bear the thought of them facing such a perilous threat alone.
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As I neared the scene, a surreal sight unfolded before me—I beheld myself, lying asleep on the desert floor. The inexplicable vision stirred a mix of curiosity and apprehension within me.
The jolt of seeing my own dream self shook me from my slumber, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. Zershoon, sensing something amiss, abruptly halted his playing and scanned our surroundings with a concerned expression. The ground beneath us quivered with the approaching footsteps of a colossal creature, its presence becoming more pronounced with every moment that passed. Without hesitation, Zershoon hastened to pack up his guitar, his urgency evident.
I wasted no time, pulling Wren from her exhausted sleep and urging her to her feet. There was no opportunity for explanations; action was imperative as the distant silhouette of a wyrm loomed ever closer. Despite my distaste for her, I was not about to let a fellow traveller succumb to the desert's treacherous beasts.
Wren's voice trembled with fear as she asked for an explanation, but my focus was solely on putting distance between us and the rapidly approaching wyrm. Running as fast as I could, I could sense its presence growing nearer, its ominous energy sending shivers down my spine. Zershoon deftly descended a dune, and Wren scrambled down after him.
The wyrm's foul breath hung heavily in the air, making each inhalation a painful struggle. My muscles ached, my chest burned, but adrenaline fueled my efforts. However, the fierce exhaustion within me proved to be a formidable adversary. Despite my best efforts, my body slowed to a halt, utterly spent.
I turned to witness Wren's frantic ascent up the dune towards me, her determination stark in the situation. But my gaze was inevitably drawn back to the wyrm, its massive head looming ever closer, its eyes radiating a fear that paralyzed me. I willed myself to move, to flee, but the sheer terror that gripped me held my limbs captive.
In a heart-pounding climax, the ground before me exploded as a colossal leviathan burst forth from the dune, soaring into the sky with an indomitable force. Its monumental presence dwarfed even the wyrm that had been my source of fear just moments ago, rendering it insignificant.
The clash between the leviathan and the wyrm was a brutal spectacle, sending shockwaves through the very ground we stood on. Blood and sand mingled as the larger wyrm’s power effortlessly shredded through its smaller adversary, a swift and merciless end. I felt like an insignificant witness to a grand symphony of nature's ferocity.
Wren's urgency pulled me back from my stunned state as she tugged me down the dune, breaking the grip of fear that had paralyzed me. The wyrm, its attention fixed on its conquest, allowed us a brief respite. With her help, I was lowered to the ground, my legs barely able to support me.
Zershoon appeared at our side, his waterskin offering the precious elixir that our parched throats craved. I took a small sip, well aware of the need to conserve the water. It was a reminder that our survival hinged on the limited resources we possessed.
The urgency of our situation was not lost on any of us. Zershoon's reminder to leave before the wyrm deemed us its next target resonated with Wren's instincts. She ran to the side, her body betraying the terror she tried to conceal, and emptied her stomach onto the sand. A shaky thumbs up from her indicated she was ready to move.
We rose, dusting off the grit that clung to us, and my gaze met Wren's ghostly complexion. Though not fond of her, I couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie, having faced the same terror. With a nod, she signalled her readiness to continue, and I concurred with a determined expression.
As we resumed our journey, I couldn't shake the haunting image of the leviathan and the wyrm locked in their savage battle, a reminder of the unforgiving nature of the desert and the dangers that awaited us. It was a stark reminder that survival in this harsh land required resilience, cooperation, and a willingness to face the unknown.
My legs ached with each step I took forward, the burn of exertion reminding me of the desert's unforgiving nature. Our pace seemed unusually brisk compared to our entry into the desert. The lingering surge of adrenaline kept us moving, though fatigue was slowly beginning to gnaw at our edges. Wren, her voice a whispered mantra, mumbled indistinct words to herself, while Zershoon clung to his guitar as if its familiar touch provided some semblance of comfort. My gaze wandered skyward, an unspoken urge pulling my attention to the vast expanse above. A strange sensation tugged at my core, as if the sky itself held secrets waiting to be revealed. Yet, as swiftly as it had come, the feeling began to recede, leaving only a lingering echo of its presence. Despite the scorching sun, my eyes remained fixed on the heavens, the desert sands and the world around me fading into a distant backdrop. It was as if reality had yielded to the vivid memory of the dream I had experienced.
The reverie was abruptly shattered when I accidentally collided with Zershoon, jolting me back to the present.
"Sorry, I didn't see you there," I signed in an apologetic gesture.
Wren, seemingly confused by the exchange, came to a halt behind us. "What's going on? You okay, Asara? You've seemed distracted ever since we ran from those wyrms."
Responding to her inquiry, I offered a nod of reassurance.
"Nothing's amiss. I thought it might be a good idea to take a short break before we continue," Zershoon communicated through his motions. "We seem to have distanced ourselves quite well from that wyrm."
Wren regarded us with a mixture of curiosity and puzzlement. Of course, she was unfamiliar with sign language. Nonetheless, I hoped that my non-verbal cues would convey my intentions. As I let my backpack slide from my shoulders, a sigh of relief escaped my lips, the relinquishing of the weight a welcome respite. I looked towards Wren, a fleeting flicker of understanding passing across her features as the gears of realisation clicked into place. She settled herself on the desert floor, the fine grains of sand shifting beneath her.
"Could you guys perhaps teach me the hand thing?" Wren's voice was hushed, tinged with a mix of curiosity and vulnerability. "I feel a bit out of place not being able to understand you."
Zershoon's gaze turned to me, and his unspoken sentiment was clear: gratitude for Wren's intervention, and a suggestion that teaching her was only fair.
Contemplating his suggestion, I replied through my signing, "I'm uncertain if teaching her is a good idea. It might be difficult for her to grasp."
"You have very little faith in Wren, even though she pulled you away from the body of the dead desert wyrm and the one that would have had you for dessert. If not for her, I’m not sure you’d be here right now," Zershoon signed with a furrowed brow, his words carrying a hint of reproach.
I couldn't deny his observation, painful as it was to acknowledge. I retrieved my notebook, swiftly jotting down my response: "I'll teach you some signs later today. For now, try to get some rest. We'll need to resume our journey soon." With that, I passed the sheet of paper to Wren, her eyes skimming the words as gratitude and understanding danced across her features.
"Thank you, Asara," she expressed softly, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she lowered her gaze to her hands. Her hair cascaded forward, revealing the scars that marked her ears. It was a curious detail, one that held stories unknown to me, yet I refrained from prying. After all, it was neither my business nor my place to inquire further.
Untangling my hair from its bun, I began weaving it into a braid, a rhythmic motion that helped ease my thoughts. Finally, I settled my head onto my backpack, seeking the solace of sleep to rejuvenate my tired body. The desert's embrace carried me into slumber, offering a temporary respite from our arduous journey.
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"Priestess?!" a voice screamed in my ears, wrenching me from my slumber. I blinked groggily, struggling to focus on the source of the voice. Two red tieflings loomed over me, their identical features set apart only by the presence or absence of freckles across their faces. Their horns curved gracefully around their ears, and their vibrant orange eyes glowed with excitement. Both had a masculine presence, with broad shoulders that bespoke strength.
"We have been waiting for you, Priestess. I am very glad to find you. We shall take you and your companions to Kharisa immediately," the one with freckles declared, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency.
"What's all this about being a priestess?" I signed, bewildered by the unexpected turn of events. Zershoon exchanged a shrug with me, as the tieflings observed my hands with evident puzzlement. I felt a surge of frustration building within me. All I wanted was to reach Kharisa without any further complications.
"Oh, she does not speak the tongue," the freckle-less tiefling remarked, his gaze shifting to Wren. Seeking understanding, he questioned her, "You, human, do you understand her?" Wren shook her head vigorously, clearly indicating her lack of comprehension.
I reached for my notebook, hastily rewriting my words in my frustration over the unfolding situation. The two tieflings exchanged glances, their eyes having watched me intently since they had come into my view. It was only now that I realised their scrutiny had been ongoing.
"You do not know?" The freckled tiefling regarded me with a puzzled expression, then turned to his companion and whispered in hushed tones, mistakenly thinking I couldn't hear him. "She's the promised one. We must take her to the temple. She'll learn there. Erisa knows the language of hands." Their whispered conversation, though ostensibly secret, reached my ears, bringing an involuntary smile to my lips despite my befuddlement over their statements.
"We leave soon. Pack up and hurry. We have to get you to Kharisa," the other tiefling chimed in, the urgency evident in his voice.
However, I was not ready to be swept away by circumstances beyond my control. I seized my notebook again, my frustration now etching lines of consternation on my face. "Do I get a say in this?" I penned my question with a furrowed brow, determined to assert myself amidst the whirlwind of unexpected developments.
"When you learn, you do. But now, we need you," the tiefling responded, leaving me with a distinct sense of being trapped in a situation I hadn't asked for. My frustration simmered beneath the surface as I watched them walk back to their camels, their gazes fixed on us.
Wren collected her belongings and approached me, with Zershoon trailing close behind. "What do we do?" she whispered in a tone fraught with uncertainty.
"We have no choice but to go with them. They'll probably kill us if we don't," I wrote on the paper, revealing the grim reality of our predicament. Zershoon nodded, his expression mirroring my resignation, while Wren's face turned pale once again.
"Why is everything trying to kill us in the desert? Is there one thing that doesn't want to kill us?" Wren's frustrated exclamation resonated loudly enough to attract the attention of the two scarlet tieflings.
In response to their curious looks, they led their camels over to us. Annoyance surged within me, directed not just at Wren's outspokenness but also at the circumstances that had led us to this point. I shot her a reproachful glare before hoisting my backpack onto my shoulders. The tieflings smiled in an unsettlingly cheerful manner.
"We won't kill you. Not unless you—" the freckled one pointed at me "—are pretending to be the Priestess," he explained with a mix of seriousness and playfulness. I couldn't help but roll my eyes in response to the absurdity of it all.
"We're ready to head to Kharisa," Wren spoke on behalf of me and Zershoon, her voice laced with a determination that I couldn't muster at the moment. The tieflings nodded, their stern expressions relaxing slightly.
"Good, we'll ride on the camels. It'll be quicker and less dangerous," the freckle-less tiefling suggested with a genial smile. "I'm Djorn, by the way."
"And I'm Andro," the freckled one chimed in finally with an introduction.
Two more additions to our motley group, with an optimism I was struggling to share. I had hoped for a quiet journey through the Desert of Death, but it seemed fate had other plans.
Suddenly, an inexplicable sensation tugged at my senses, drawing my gaze upwards to the endless expanse of the sunlit sky. A thunderous roar rent the air, causing Djorn and Andro to urge us onto the camels urgently. In the distance, the monstrous wyrm emerged, closing in on us, its menacing presence undeniable.
My attention shifted as a blaze of fire erupted from the sky, directed at the wyrm. My heart raced, torn between a primal urge to seek the source of the fire and the rational knowledge that I was far from capable of engaging in such a conflict. I felt an inexplicable longing pulling me towards that blaze, a sensation that seemed to echo the dream I had experienced.
As if driven by an unseen force, I began to ascend the dune, my determination overriding the physical strain in my body. But Andro intervened, racing in front of me and pushing me back onto the desert floor with a forceful shove. A surge of anger and frustration flooded my being as I was thwarted from pursuing my inexplicable calling.
"You can't go there. When you learn, you'll be allowed to join in on that fight. As you are right now, you're weak," Andro's shouted words were a harsh reality check, a bitter reminder of my limitations. I despised that he was right, but my body yielded to his assertion, turning away from the beckoning flames and towards Zershoon and Wren, who awaited my decision.
The ache within me persisted, a relentless pull towards an unknown destiny, even as I reconciled myself to this unexpected journey to Kharisa.