After The Prophet of Oria had caught her trying to sneak off, Clara reluctantly lay back down on the sand. Despite the long days of travelling, she had only managed a couple of hours of sleep. As she lay staring up at the stars, her mind began to wander. For the first time since she had left the village, her future seemed uncertain.
She had to admit that, despite being wary of him, she was glad of the company on the journey. Now, it was only at night, in the silence left before sleep, that she would think about what might lie beyond Oria for her. She had no idea what her mother had hidden there years ago or what it would mean. Would she spend weeks on end wandering in search of more answers, or were they all there waiting for her? With fantasised images of what the vaults might look like, Clara found herself slipping back into sleep once more.
It only felt like moments ago that she had been convinced to stay by The Prophet of Oria and that she was being awoken by him shaking her. The sun was slowly beginning to rise, the early morning light glinting off the rooftops of the city and the large lake on its outskirts.
‘It’s time to get moving,’ he said, stepping back when she opened her eyes. ‘Come on, we want to get there before the traders begin coming into the city.’
‘They get a lot of traders out here? We haven’t seen anyone in days,’ Clara said, looking around at the vast desert. The only sign of life was the city itself, lost in the middle of the desert.
‘You shouldn’t let what you see deceive you,’ he replied, setting off across the sand as soon as she had picked up her bag. ‘This place may look like a wasteland, but it is far from it. People all over the world travel to the city in search of the riches that they have heard about in the tales.’
‘Many wonder why the first people bothered to build a city out here, so far from the rest of civilization. They saw what the others could not: possibility. The world is forever changing, and to them, they saw the possibility of unearthing what had come before them.’
‘And what came before them?’ Cara asked sceptically.
‘An ancient empire, long lost in the desert and buried beneath the sand,’ he said, pointing towards the lake. ‘It was the oasis they found first. So far from anything else, and yet there it was. If nothing else, it was a good place to make a small camp. It wasn’t until a while later that they realised that the source of the oasis was actually derived from an ancient Precursor artefact.’
‘Planted in the sand, it was able to generate water that could sustain life, even in the harshest of places. That is where Oria gets the name ‘Gem of the Desert. Some believe that the artefact was once far more powerful, able to sustain the entire Brecia empire and hundreds of miles of lush landscapes like what remains of the oasis.’
‘What do you believe?’
The Prophet of Oria fell silent, considering her question. ‘I don’t think the artefact could have sustained the whole empire. It’s more likely that there were multiple artefacts with the same properties that were positioned as they were needed. It is possible that they were more powerful originally, of course. Some Precursor artefacts have a tendency to be unstable or have their powers decay over time.’
‘There are others out there? Artefacts,’ Clara said. ‘Have you studied them before?’
‘I’ve never studied any of them in person; that is something only afforded to the most experienced, unfortunately,’ he said. ‘There are many artefacts out there, though. Some can do a lot of good,’ he gestured to the oasis again. ‘But others are incredibly powerful and dangerous. It’s hard to tell how many there are, though; a lot of them are just myths.’
‘They could still be real and lost, though,’ she said.
‘I guess so, although I highly doubt some of them are real,’ he said. ‘As powerful as some of the Precursors were, I don’t think even they would have the powers to create items powerful enough to resurrect the dead or pass from this plane of existence into the plane where the lost souls reside.’
‘I’m surprised they haven’t found an artefact that could bring people back from death,’ Clara said, her thoughts drifting to her mother. ‘Surely everyone would want to be able to save people.’
‘I remember those days,’ he said wistfully. ‘The innocence of youth, where we believe that good triumphs at every turn. It may be going against nature to take a life, but what about denying death? In death we find peace at last; who are the living to decide that some should be pulled from that peace?’
‘I guess,’ Clara sighed, thoughts of seeing her mother again discouraged in a matter of seconds from arising.
‘Curiosity is a good quality; do not let it diminish, Clara,’ he said, pausing to turn to her. ‘Sometimes we must be as cautious as we are curious, though. It may be of no consolation, but I, for one, believe we will meet those we have lost once more when the time is right.’
They stood in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Death was never something that she had contemplated before. For all the desolation that sat so close to her old home, death had always seemed something distant, something that dwelt in stories.
A low rumble broke the silence, dragging them both abruptly from their thoughts. ‘What’s that?’ Clara asked, looking around for the source.
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It had been years since he had been in the desert, but it was a sound he knew instantly. ‘It’s okay; it’s just a sand-ski,’ he said reassuringly.
Before she could ask what on earth a sand-ski was, it bound over the crest of the sand dune. To some extent, it resembled a rowboat similar to the one they had used to cross the border. At the base, it had three large, wooden planks that had been curved up at the front, and a sail billowing in the wind from the central mast.
Upon seeing the pair of them, one of the four figures on board lowered the sail, slowing the sand-ski. The Prophet of Oria raised a hand in acknowledgement as the craft turned in their direction.
‘You lost, travellers?’ a woman called from behind a black neckerchief, lifting the thick goggles from her eyes. Her dark hair almost matched the neckerchief as she pulled it down from her mouth to reveal olive skin, no doubt darkened by the time in the desert.
‘Almost there now,’ The Prophet of Oria said, nodding in the direction of the city as the sand ski came to a stop just short of them.
‘Where have you come from?’ she asked, jumping down onto the sand.
‘Been heading down from Osium, you?’ he said.
‘Osium’s a long way to walk,’ she said. Clara could see her sizing him up as the other three remained on the sand-ski. ‘We’re from Oria; we spent a couple of days out in the desert at one of the old mines.’
‘That’s true,’ he said, nodding. ‘I haven’t been back to Oria in a long time; the walk is something that’s put me off a few times. Family business can’t be ignored sometimes, though,’ he said, nodding towards Clara.
She nodded, holding out a hand. My name is Izza El-Quadir. We’re heading back to Oria; if you wanted a ride,
Clara looked to The Prophet of Oria as she shook hands with Izza. For a moment he was quiet, a faraway look in his eyes similar to the one he had had in Morlock when he had foreseen the bar fight. Was he seeing what the future held for them if they accepted?
‘That’s a very gracious offer,’ he said with a smile. ‘If it would not be too invasive, it would be nice to take the weight of my weary bones.’
‘Of course not; I think I have some spare goggles here that you can use,’ Izza said as she gestured for them to follow. ‘These are my brothers, Hanni and Faisal,’ she gestured to the two men sat by the lowered sail. Both of them had dark skin like Izza, and their black hair was cut much shorter. They each nodded to the two of them, with Faisal raising a hand in acknowledgement.
The person that caught Clara’s attention, however, was the other man on the sand-ski. He looked to be a few years older than her, but she was caught by his pale skin beneath a mop of brown hair that stuck out at odd angles. He must have travelled from somewhere else. In what could barely be considered a nod, he shuffled over on the wooden bench, turning his gaze back in the direction of the city.
‘Russell,’ he said, nodding to the three of them as he climbed on to the sand-ski. ‘My daughter, Clara.’
Clara raised a hand in half a wave, caught completely off guard by having him refer to her as his daughter. Russell as well? She wondered if that was his actual name or just one that he had plucked from thin air.
‘We picked this one up not far from one of the dig sites,’ Izza said, handing a battered pair of goggles to each of them. God knows how long he had been out there, but he was borderline delirious when we found him.’
‘What were you looking for at the dig sites?’ Clara asked curiously. Russell, assuming that was actually his name, hadn’t told her a great deal about Oria or the area around it.
‘The dig sites were mostly abandoned years ago. They were set up in spots all over the desert to search for old artefacts from the days of the Brecia Empire,’ Hanni said as he finished raising the sail on the sand-ski once more.
It took a moment for the wind to catch it, the sand-ski jerking forward suddenly, threatening to topple Clara from her seat in surprise. Very slowly, the sand-ski began to pick up speed once more, the low rumbling filling her ears. She was grateful for the goggles Izza had lent her as she pulled her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose from the swirling sand.
‘Did you find anything?’ Clara shouted back to Hanni. The stories of missing Precursor artefacts had piqued her interest somewhat.
‘Nothing much this time. The dig sites were completely picked dry years ago, for the most part. From time to time, we come across something they missed, but there isn’t much out there now, I guess,’ Hanni said, adjusting the sail to change their direction slightly as the city grew closer. ‘Supposedly there are some ruins out in the desert that predate the Brecia Empire.’
‘It’s hard to map the area properly when you get sandstorms rolling through every few days and changing the landscape,’ Izza called. ‘Still, we manage to find a few things here and there. There are some people who have deep pockets for anything related to the old empire.’
In a fraction of the time it would have taken them to walk to the city, the sand-ski glided across the dunes, skirting around the edge of the lush vegetation of the oasis to the towering city walls. Over the years, the stonework had been blasted by the sand that surrounded the city, smoothing it until it was almost like silk.
As they reached the large archway into the city, Izza stood up, waving and shouting to one of the city guards in a language Clara didn’t understand. The guard she had called waved a hand, gesturing them through and into the wide streets beyond.
Once upon a time, Clara imagined there had been cobbled streets laid with the same precision that the buildings had been constructed. Now, whatever surface there was had been mostly covered by sand. Occasionally, one of the runners of the sand ski screeched on stones as they made their way into the city.
Along the sides of the streets, people were already trying their best to keep to the shadows as the heat from the morning sun began to build rapidly. All around them, buildings two or three stories high lined the streets, with large open windows covered by thin fabric. Through narrow alleyways, she caught brief glimpses of the large pyramid structure that she had seen from afar. Now that they were closer, she could see it towering over the rest of the city, even more impressive than it had been from a distance.
‘Well, here we are,’ Izza said, removing her goggles and neckerchief as the sand-ski glided to a stop in front of a large stone archway. Beyond the archway, a fabric awning stretched from the wall of the modest house to the outside wall, covering the space beneath the archway.
‘Thank you for the ride into the city,’ Russell said, flicking a couple of silver coins at her in gratitude. ‘It’s been many years since I’ve had a chance to ride on a sand-ski." Good memories.’
‘Not a problem; hopefully your family business is successful,’ she replied, initially refusing to take the coin before relenting when he insisted.
‘I’m sure it will be. Thank you again,’ he said with a smile. ‘Come on, Clara, there's lots to do.’
With a smile and a wave to Izza and Hanni, she stepped back as Faisal grabbed his brother, lowering the mast and pushing the sand-ski under the cover. Taking in all of her surroundings, she hadn’t noticed the other man slip away. Shrugging, she turned after Russell, who stood on the edge of the street waiting for her.
‘So, Russell?’ she asked, glancing at him.
‘My parents weren’t originally from Oria,’ he said. ‘Sometimes we have to return to the mundane parts of our lives.’