It took just a bit longer than two days to reach the oasis village. Or rather, a couple of stone carved dwellings around a well that only held a ThiRen of water, a hundred Ren. That was barely enough to slake the thirst of eighty people and a dozen horses. Not nearly enough, but then again, Yuriko could transform a mote of distilled Chaos into several dozen Ren of water so that wasn’t the real issue.
No, the problem was a matter of rations and supplies. The place was a waystation for travellers in the desert, although most took the path outside of it to get to Uaran so relatively few people actually use it. That also meant that the space wasn’t arable at all. The well was nothing more than a basin, a hole in the stone. Water dribbled in from a crack on the basin’s side, and dribbled out of another crack. Yuriko’s perception aura traced the pathways, though given that the well was nearly a pace deep, she couldn’t trace far. Just that there was a tiny bit of water running through the rocky wastes, but was so minute that it hardly mattered. Not for plant life anyway.
And perhaps the largest problem was that the oasis wasn’t empty.
The caravan had followed the rudimentary road towards the oasis, going through the rocky wastes. The only defining trait of it being a road was that it was free of obstruction. It was hardly smooth, and the wagons had to repair and replace shattered wheels several times over. That had delayed them a few hours each day.
The road snaked around jagged rock formations. They were quite beautiful, Yuriko thought as she gazed at overhangs, arcs, and pillars of reddish grey stones. There was a light layer of grey dust on the ground, and underneath were unyielding rock. Even so, some plant life existed. Not the cacti of the sandy desert, but resilient grass. There were even flower buds now that the Season of Water had turned to Earth. The days grew slightly cooler, and the nights warmer.
It was the winding nature of the road that hid the oasis from easy view, so it was only when they rounded the stone spires and the oasis came to view that they saw the…refugees? Nomads, maybe, since the dozen or so people, with a couple of young children, three teenagers, and a handful of elderfolk. The strange thing to Yuriko’s eyes was that there were no young adults, or even middle aged men and women. Just children, teenagers, and grandparents. They were dressed in loose woolens, with longer ponchos than what she and her team wore.
Well, it wasn't that much of a surprise as the beastkin had scouted the path for them. Kassy had told Yuriko that the oasis was occupied, but not by who. There was also a small herd of goats with the nomads. She counted six, breeding pairs if she guessed right. They were on a lead secured to a stake, and each one was munching on the grass. The nomads were around the tiny spring and were waiting for the water to accumulate.
Perhaps Kassy and her family didn’t try to hide since the nomads didn’t look panicked. They were quite wary, of course, hands on weapons and the children arrayed behind the elders. Sheamus ordered the caravan to halt well away from the oasis, and he glanced at Yuriko, seeking to know how she wanted to proceed. With a sigh, she hopped off the wagon roof and walked up to the front. The horses harnessed to the wagons were lathered and panting, though she knew they hadn’t been pressed all that hard.
“Let’s keep the peace,” Yuriko said as Sheamus stood next to her. He snorted in amusement, rolled his eyes, and gestured for her to precede him. She shrugged and took a few steps towards the nomads, then paused when she saw them tense up.
Heron and the twins had followed behind her. The twins still looked cute, even after they grew a couple of inches since she first saw them, and most of the baby fat was gone from their cheeks. Heron, who had shot up in height and bulk, further enhanced by his new Body Forging technique, was the biggest man in the entire caravan, and he looked quite intimidating, viewed from an objective eye. Still, he cut quite the dashing figure now.
She stared at the three of them pointedly, and motioned for them to step back. Instead, she looked for the ex-guard Adept, Dominic Hurin, and called for him to join her and Sheamus.
Hurin was a thickly muscular man roughly the same age as Sheamus, and was half a head shorter than Yuriko. His dark hair was cropped short, and his mustache was neat and tidy. He’d been bonding with the other boys on her team, mainly by showing them how to trim their facial hair. Being nearly sixteen years old, Heron’s chin and upper lip hair were still straggly. She noticed him using his hardened air blades to shave one morning, and she reckoned that it was only because his Body Forging toughened his skin that he avoided several nicks and cuts. His blade work had worsened, she noticed, since he mostly fought with strength and with his shields. As for Braden and Orrin, both of them had peach fuzz on their cheeks.
The three of them approached the oasis and the nomads. Hurin gestured for them to half a dozen paces away. After a moment, an elderly woman walked up to them. The matron’s grey hair was tied up in a neat bun on top of her head. Her eyes were the grey of overcast skies, and her face was like parchment.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The woman halted four paces away from them, and Hurin raised both of his hands over his chest, then pressed his fingertips together in a ritual greeting. He glanced at Yuriko and stared pointedly at her hands. She noticed Sheamus had copied Hurin almost immediately, so she did the same thing.
The matron expression loosened and she returned the greeting. “We welcome you in peace, and we hope to leave in peace.”
“Water and shade freely offered, we accept. Peace upon both of our families,” Hurin replied.
“Welcome to Crackstone Spring,” the matron said. “My Talim family arrived yesterday.” She looked at the caravan ruefully and continued, “I’m afraid the spring won’t be able to provide enough water for your horses, but we can share a cup each for your people. I must insist on first rights, however, and since there are fewer of us, we can be finished faster. I am Joslyn Talim.” She nodded in greeting.
Yuriko's perception aura noted that the woman didn’t have much of an Animus pressure. It was one of the few ways she learned how to distinguish the awakened and the others. The subtle pressure wasn’t easily noticeable, and she believed it was what the measuring runescript formations looked at to quantify Animus cap. Joslyn’s felt as if she were only in the Apprentice level.
They introduced themselves in turn, and Yuriko added, “Water isn’t an issue.” Joslyn looked at her, then glanced at the two men questioningly, but returned her gaze when Yuriko continued, “We hoped to find food actually, as our supplies have dwindled.”
The grandmother shook her head. “Alas, our supplies are also stretched thin. The dogs of the Federation are at fault.” She spat on the ground and growled. “Not only did they forcibly conscript my son, they also took my daughters. Everyone awakened and those at least sixteen.”
She eyed the ex-guards, but at least they no longer wore Haveenian or Kadracki insignias. If anything, Yuriko imagined they looked more like mercenaries.
“We are short on everything, and we only wish to travel deeper into the wastes. Avoid foolish conflicts and live in peace,” Grandma Joslyn continued. “Ah, you are welcome to set up your camp. I will move my family to one side. Well met.” They bowed to each other and returned to their groups.
Yuriko scaled up a rock formation, the tallest one around, and took a seated meditation pose on the pinnacle. She observed her caravan set up, while the Talim family made room. They offered water freely, but of course, water was the least of their problems. The oasis, Crackstone Spring, wasn’t what she expected. None of them, the ex-guards and civilians alike, had ever been here before, and Hurin had only seen a map. There was no easy soil to plant the seeds they took from the previous village, and even if they forced it on what was there, it would take weeks to come to fruition.
“We might have enough food to last us until the foothills,” she muttered to herself, “but I don’t know how long it will take to get to Synkrasia.”
So go steal some. Damien said.
‘Yeah! Loot and plunder! Take what you need, little Dame!’ Fri’Avgi echoed.
Yuriko’s eyelids twitched at the artefact spirit’s mode of address. After their first meeting, and during their journey the past couple of days, she had gotten to know the little spirit.
‘You’re not Damien. You’re not my master…but…hmmm, you smell like him.’
Of course she’s not me! I’m right here, aren’t I? She smells like me because she walks the same path. She’s an Ancient, and a walker to Exaltation!
‘Eh, why am I hearing you in my head, Dame-dame? Didn’t you die already?’
Maybe you need to go back to sleep? I’ll twist your head off.
‘Wah! Master is bullying little me again! Little Dame, help me!’
‘Eh?’ Yuriko could only watch in confusion and irritation as Fri’Avgi’s incarnation in the dreamscape and Damien’s incarnation chased each other. She no longer needed to use her old Facet to visit the dreamscape, though of course, the Golden Silhouette wouldn’t appear unless she activated it. When she did her meditations, she could feel the pull of the dream, and one session, she found herself floating in it. It was a small space, no larger than her Anima reach. Perhaps the ability to do so came to her after the True Refraction, though it was only of late that she actually managed to do it.
In the dreamscape, she could see Damien, and Fri’Avgi. She could train here, too, though not with her body. It helped her visualise and improve her Animus control. And perhaps a bit of her Sorcery. The Radiant Lance implement floated around, too. She could also see the runescript weaving of her Anima here, as well as the Adamant Guardian Seal pattern. Here, she practised the Adamant, as well as tried to dissect its pattern and see if she could apply it as a whole to her condensed Anima. Little progress was made, but she’d only been working on it the past couple of days. And unlike reading books, looking at runescript lines felt wonderful.
‘What do you mean ‘Little Dame’?’ she finally spluttered after too long a pause.
‘Eh? You’re like a little copy of Damien, so Little Dame?’
‘Who’s a copy of that perverted old man?!’
‘You? Same bloodthirst, same obsession with training and strength? Same Radiant light?’
‘We’re different people,’ Yuriko insisted.
‘If you say so,’ Fri’Avgi said with a cute pout.
At that point, Yuriko had to reign in her urge to pinch and pull those adorable cheeks. They didn’t converse for much longer anyway. Like Damien, Fri’Avgi’s animating spirit couldn’t stay awake long. She consumed distilled Chaos as opposed to Damien’s Radiant energy needs, though thankfully, at a much slower pace than before. The levels of Fri’Avgi’s reserve were finally above what they were before she used Chaos Extraction. The seven way split opened controlled rifts into the deep Chaos Sea and flooded her with enough Chaos to Shape what she wanted. Of course, keeping the rifts, and even the seven way split, ate up a lot of reserve.
Well, the good thing about that, was now she had enough distilled Chaos to initiate Heron’s Chaos Baptism. Ancestors knew how eager he was for it. And honestly, she looked forward to seeing what kind of path he’d walk in the Ancient’s Way.