book 1 Chapter 20: The Oasis in the Desert

The streets, once narrow alleys and packed thoroughfares, began to open up, the buildings receding as the trio approached Dustfall's main gate. It was a formidable structure, a towering arch of rough-hewn stone framing massive two-story wooden doors that met precisely in the middle. Each door, crafted from thick, iron-bound timber, required two guardsmen to operate, their figures small against its imposing scale. During the day, the doors stood perpetually open, a wide maw allowing the constant flow of people and goods to come and go after a mandatory inspection. As Dustfall was a major trading city in Faph, it was prone to bandit incursions. Every person leaving was checked, their bags scrutinised, and their faces compared against the various bounty flyers plastered all over the massive stone walls at the front gate. Motley, who had walked with an extra perk in his step, proudly showing off his new dagger sheathed at his hip, decided to remove the sheath and dagger from his person and into Hugo's bag. They had agreed before reaching the gate that it would make more sense if Hugo, a known merchant, was found to have such a finely crafted weapon, rather than the anonymous newcomer.

As they approached the gate, they saw that there was already a long line of people, stretching back from the open doors. Motley saw families grouped together, their meagre belongings strapped to their backs. Camel-drawn carriages, laden with empty crates, signalled merchants leaving the city after their deliveries, their faces tired but relieved. An array of men with bags far better than their own —backpacks of fine leather and oiled canvas—must be other travellers, Motley mused, seeking their fortunes beyond Dustfall's walls.

The trio joined the line, settling in for the wait. Hugo looked down its length, his eyes quickly scanning, performing calculations in his head. "If everything goes smoothly, it'll be our turn to leave in about two hours," he murmured.

Tash let out a sigh, adjusting the strap of her bag. "It's already getting hot."

"I can carry your bag while we wait," Motley offered, noticing her slight discomfort.

Tash looked up at Motley, then, to his surprise, she suddenly straightened her back, her shoulders squaring, and crossed her arms in front of her. "No, it's fine."

A Guard, his uniform pristine despite the dust, walked up and down the line, his gaze sweeping over everyone, ensuring no funny business was happening. As the guard reached the end of the line, he stopped beside Hugo. "Oh, Master Hugo," he said, his voice respectful, "Where are you off to today?"

"Officer Corban," Hugo replied, his smirk firmly in place. "Good morning. We're just off to the Oasis near the walls."

"We?" Officer Corban's brow furrowed slightly as he looked from Tash, then to Motley, his eyes narrowing onto the unfamiliar man.

"We'll have no issues, right?" Hugo said, his voice smooth, before Corban could voice his suspicion. He extended his hand, and Corban, after a slight hesitation, shook it. As the guard removed his hand, he looked down at it, then quickly slipped it into his pocket, his expression unreadable. "You three can skip the line and leave."

Hugo nodded. "Thank you." They left the murmuring line, bypassing the long wait, the whispers from each person in the crowd following them as they walked towards the massive, open gates.

Motley let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "I'm free," he whispered, the words tasting like liberation on his tongue as they passed through the gate.

"Welcome to the real world," Hugo murmured, a subtle smirk on his face.

Motley looked around, his gaze sweeping the vast expanse. The open desert stretched to the horizon, broken only by the occasional, rolling dune and scattered cacti standing like solitary sentinels. In the distance, faint figures moved—travellers, perhaps, or early caravans—too far away to discern if they were leaving or coming towards the city. An exhilarating excitement swelled inside Motley. Even though he had walked into a boundless landscape with no immediate end in sight, he felt a profound, undeniable sense of freedom.

"Tash! Wait!"

A voice, sharp and desperate, cut through the vast silence. Motley's stomach dropped. He turned. They had only made a few steps beyond the city walls, and the figure at the gate was visible: Zeb Hipgrave, panting, his hands on his knees as he struggled to draw breath. He stood up straight, his gaze fixed on them.

Tash instantly broke from the trio, walking back towards him, her steps measured. Motley took a step to follow, but Hugo's hand shot out, grabbing his arm firmly. "She'll be okay," Hugo whispered, his voice quiet, restraining him. Motley stopped, watching the tense tableau unfold.

They met in the middle, a few dozen meters away. Zeb looked nervous, an expression that seemed unnatural on his stern face. "Where are you going?" he asked between gasps, his voice rough.

Tash remained silent, her expression unreadable.

Zeb waited, then continued, his voice heavy with desperation. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened to me." He looked at Tash, who held his gaze, unblinking. Zeb shifted, unable to meet her unwavering stare for long. "I... I just wanted to protect you. And I know I lost my way. I know I hurt you." His eyes flicked past Tash, catching sight of Hugo and Motley. "Please don't leave. I..." He struggled to find the words, his usual commanding presence utterly shattered.

Tash cleared her throat. Zeb waited, a desperate hope in his eyes.

"Goodbye, Zebby," Tash said, her voice quiet, a soft finality to the childhood name. She turned away from him, leaving him standing alone, and walked back to Motley and Hugo.

She walked past them, her gaze fixed forward, and the trio turned away from Dustfall. They set their faces east, towards the distant horizon, and began their journey. Motley, however, couldn't help but look back. The walls of Dustfall, once so imposing, were now smaller than they had ever been to him, already receding into the morning light. He squinted and could barely make out the outline of a lone figure still standing by the wide-open gates, watching them disappear.

The trio continued their journey, keeping a measured pace, not too fast as to tire themselves out – they knew they had the whole day to walk to reach their first stop. They moved along a distinct path, not one of wood or brick, nor a mere track of packed dirt from countless footsteps. Instead, it was a subtle depression in the sand, subtly firmer, etched by centuries of desert winds blowing away the loose grains, leaving behind a slightly more compressed, stable surface. It made the first leg of their journey easier, providing a clear direction and sparing their feet from slowly sinking into the loose sand with every step.

"Motley," Tash suddenly said, her voice quiet, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them for the last several minutes. She pointed north from their current position. "If we walked that way for about half an hour, we would arrive at the battlefield where I found you."

Motley looked in the direction she indicated, squinting his eyes, trying to find anything... different. He saw nothing but endless, shifting sand.

"When I was walking around there, trying to find people to save, it didn't feel like I was in a desert," Tash continued, her voice gaining a distant, haunted quality. "The sand was scorched black and red."

"Were there many other survivors?" Motley asked, his voice low.

"A few," Tash replied, her gaze distant. "A handful from the Faph army, some of the Solarian. Some had small injuries, and I helped clean up and cover. Others died in the trauma room. I decided to venture out one last time, and that's when I found you." She sighed, the sound heavy. "I honestly still don't know why I decided to save you. Maybe it was because I'd recently lost a few soldiers in my care, and I wanted to make up for it by saving you."

Hugo, who had been listening intently, interjected, his voice gaining a professional detachment. "The 'Viperstrike' engagement, Sector Gamma. My informants picked up on it. Solara deployed a smaller-than-average vanguard, hoping for a swift, surgical strike on Dustfall's western gates. It was meant to be a show of force, a display of renewed aggression without committing too many resources." He paused, his smirk a grim line. "They underestimated Dustfall's preparedness, and particularly the ferocity of the Faph counter-assault. It became a meat grinder, a tactical miscalculation on Solara's part. High casualties for a low strategic return. It was a chaotic mess, a pure waste of lives."

"That is horrible, what a waste of lives," Tash said, her voice tight with disgust.

"What's the end goal?" Motley asked, his gaze fixed on the shimmering horizon, imagining the endless conflict.

"Apparently, it's to rule over the desert for resources," Hugo replied, his smirk a grim line.

"Fucking greed," Tash spat, her knuckles whitening as she clenched her fists. "Why don't the leaders fight it out themselves rather than using people as tools for their greed?"

"Politics and war," Hugo said, a shrug in his voice, as if it explained everything and nothing.

They continued for a few hours, the conversation flowing more easily. They shared stories of their pasts, fragments of lives lived under different skies, and talked about the uncertain future stretching before them. They passed a few travellers heading towards Dustfall, their figures silhouetted against the afternoon sun. Of course, even these people knew Hugo, offering respectful greetings as they passed. They decided to play a game, betting on whether the next person they encountered would recognise Hugo or not. Hugo, naturally, always bet that they would, and to Tash's delight, he lost twice.

"I will never let you forget that you lost a bet, Hugo!" Tash vowed, a triumphant grin on her face.

Hugo simply chuckled, bringing up the massive tab she still owed him at The Copper Cactus. Motley watched on, laughing freely as his two new friends playfully argued, the sound bright and unburdened in the vast quiet of the desert.

The time passed quickly, a blur of easy companionship, until the sun began its slow descent, painting the western sky in hues of orange and bruised purple. As the trio crested a small dune, a cluster of low huts, the first sign of civilisation beyond Dustfall, came into sight.

The subtle depression they had been following, their unofficial path, curved distinctly left, veering away from the small cluster of huts now visible on the horizon. Motley’s eyes tracked it, drawn to where it disappeared towards the distant, hazy shimmer of the horizon.

"That path goes towards the ocean," Hugo explained, noticing Motley’s gaze. "It leads to a larger settlement that trades often with Dustfall. It swings around this way to avoid the massive dunes. Some travellers use this village as a halfway point to rest before tackling the bigger stretches of desert."

"We'll have to follow our path from here on, then?" Motley asked, as they left the faint track, their boots sinking slightly into the looser sand as they headed directly towards the village.

"Yes, but don't worry. We'll buy a map from a local here that we can use," Hugo confirmed.

The village was... small. A collection of only five huts, their canvas walls and timber frames looking remarkably similar to the larger, more permanent versions of the market stalls in Dustfall. They were clearly designed to be collapsed and re-erected, suggesting a nomadic past or a community that prioritised mobility. Each hut was just a few steps away from the heart of the village: a small, vibrant oasis.

The oasis itself was a miracle in the stark desert. A pool of impossibly clear, cool water shimmered under the setting sun, fed by a hidden spring that bubbled up from the ochre earth. Its edges were fringed with a small cluster of date palms, their fronds rustling softly in the faint breeze, laden with heavy, ripening fruit. The ground immediately around the water was a patch of rich, dark earth, thick with lush, green reeds and a scattering of small, unidentifiable desert flowers, their petals curled against the evening chill. A tiny flock of emerald-winged desert birds flitted between the palms, their chirps a cheerful counterpoint to the profound silence of the surrounding sand. The air here was noticeably cooler, sweeter, a living breath in the vast, dry wilderness.

The trio stepped onto the softer sand at the edges of the village. As they did, an old, tall man emerged from the closest hut, his figure silhouetted against the setting sun. His skin was the colour of worn leather, deeply creased and etched by decades under the relentless desert sun. His eyes, though ancient, held a keen, knowing light. He wore clothing unlike anything Motley had seen in Dustfall: a loose, flowing robe of undyed linen that billowed slightly in the faint breeze, and a tightly wound turban that covered his head, its fabric a muted blue, protecting him from the sun and sand alike.

"Oh, Master Hugo," the old man said, his voice raspy with age, yet warm. He bowed deeply, his back surprisingly supple, and gently clasped Hugo's hand between both of his own. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Perrin."

"And you, Perrin," Hugo replied, his usual smirk softening into a genuine smile. "These are my friends, Tash and Motley."

Perrin approached Tash first, his eyes filled with a quiet welcome. He clasped her hand gently, then moved to Motley, repeating the gesture. His gaze on Motley was long, appraising, before a faint, knowing smile touched his lips. "Please, come in, come in," Perrin gestured towards his hut, his voice inviting them into the warmth of his home.

Perrin pulled back a wall of fabric, opening up his hut for the trio. As Motley walked in, the temperature dropped considerably, a welcome respite from the lingering heat of the desert. The second thing Motley noticed was the floor—or lack thereof—just more sand, swept smooth and cool. No chairs could be seen; instead, large, plush pillows were scattered around a low wooden table, noticeably crafted from different woods, their varied colours and textures forming an intricate mosaic. On the table lay a large, rolled-up parchment, held in a scroll by a piece of braided thread.

Perrin walked in behind them and closed his fabric door, plunging the interior into a quiet dimness. "Please sit, sit," he said, gesturing to the pillows. Tash quickly unthreaded her arms from her bag's straps, letting it fall to the ground behind her with a soft thud. She let out a long sigh, rolling her shoulders. "Thank Chronos for that," she murmured. Hugo and Motley did the same, but with a bit more respect, placing their bags gently on the sand before settling onto the comfortable pillows around the table.

Perrin handed each of them a skin pouch of water and placed a bowl of various fruits in the middle of the table. "It is water from the Oasis, freshest you will taste," Perrin said. He watched them drink, and he saw the eyes of Motley and Tash light up. "It tastes so clean," Motley said, savouring the cool liquid. Perrin smiled and nodded. "Yes, yes. Thank you, sir."

Perrin sat with them and slowly, reverently, unrolled the parchment that lay in front of them all. "Here is the map you requested, Master Hugo," Perrin said. The map was long, about as long as Motley’s arm when fully unfurled, but that was not what made Tash gasp. It was the detail.

The parchment wasn't merely a drawing; it was a living chronicle of the desert. Hand-drawn lines, incredibly fine and precise, charted every ridge and valley of dunes, showing not just their location but subtle elevation changes, marked by tiny, swirling contours. Clusters of cacti were individually drawn, indicating species and density, while sparse rock formations were rendered with remarkable geological accuracy. Faint, almost invisible animal tracks were etched along traditional migration paths, hinting at the wildlife that crisscrossed the vast expanse. There were tiny, almost imperceptible symbols marking hidden springs and seasonal wadis—dry riverbeds that only flowed after rare rains. Each oasis, no matter how small, was detailed with its specific number of palm trees, its pool size, and even the type of reeds growing at its edge. The locations of every mining town, every nomadic encampment, and every trade outpost within Faph were not just dots but miniature, recognisable sketches, each linked by thin, almost invisible lines representing the most efficient, safest, or quickest routes. It was the distilled knowledge of a lifetime spent under the sun, a man's entire existence meticulously laid bare on parchment.

"This is my life's work," Perrin said softly, his ancient eyes sweeping over the map. "Dustfall may be your home, and you would know shortcuts through alleyways that I would not know of. But this desert is my home. I know every cacti and every dune."

Motley took his time, his eyes following every fine line, every etched outpost, every tiny mining town on the map. The more he looked, the more amazed he became by the sheer depth of knowledge contained within the parchment. He looked up at the old man in awe. "This... this is priceless," Motley breathed.

"Thank you, sir," Perrin replied, a quiet pride in his voice.

"Is this your only map?" Tash asked, looking over Dustfall and its immediate surroundings on the parchment.

"The first and last map," Perrin said, and Tash's gaze snapped up to him. Before Perrin could elaborate, Hugo chuckled softly, knowing all too well the significance of that statement.

"Knowledge is power," Hugo stated, his eyes gleaming. "Imagine if the military had its hands on something this detailed."

Motley nodded, understanding the immense strategic value such a document would hold. "We're taking this with us to Hearthglow?" he asked, looking at Hugo.

"Under one condition," Hugo said, a flicker of seriousness in his eyes. "I am the only one who can carry the map, and we burn it once we reach Hearthglow."

"That is fair," Tash conceded, a reluctant agreement in her voice.

Motley slowly reached out and gently ran his hand over the parchment. "It's a shame to destroy such amazing art," he murmured, a genuine sadness in his tone.

"Agreed," Hugo chuckled, then gestured to a spot on the map indicated by a small cluster of huts and a clear blue pool. "We are here." He then tracked his finger east, around a large, curving dune, past another smaller oasis, and to a larger town marked with a simple stylised symbol. "This is our next destination. By foot, we'd get there in just under two days." Knowing what Tash would ask, Hugo backtracked his finger to the oasis next to their current location. "We will camp here for the night." Tash nodded, and so did Motley.

"I remember you saying something about camels," Tash said, prompting him. Motley tensed slightly at the reminder of riding the swaying beasts.

"Perrin has a nephew here we can buy camels from," Hugo replied. "He has a farm just outside the village where he breeds them for sale." He picked up a fruit from the bowl, beginning to peel it with deft fingers.

Tash, not wanting to be the first to succumb to the temptation of the fresh fruit, also selected one from the bowl and began to peel it. "How much?" she asked.

"Four gold each," Hugo responded, biting into the sweet flesh of his fruit.

"Four!" Tash exclaimed, her eyes widening. Motley remembered Tash teaching him about currency on his first day working at The Copper Cactus. A single gold coin was equivalent to ten silver pieces, or a hundred coppers. A basic mug of coffee at her cafe costs a mere two copper. Four gold coins for a camel was a staggering sum, representing two hundred mugs of coffee, or weeks of his meagre earnings.

"I have enough to cover two camels," Hugo said, his voice flat. "We can do some work around here to earn enough for the third."

"We could just buy one to carry our bags, right?" Motley suggested.

Hugo, still chewing, paused for a moment, considering. "That could work."

Tash sat up, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Hugo, then at Motley. She walked over to her bag and knelt beside it, her hands rummaging inside. Hugo looked down at the map, his eyes tracing their journey forth. "Doing that would add a few weeks to our journey, maybe more. We would have to stop at a town for a while and earn money." Tash walked back to the table and sat down. "How much do you think this would earn us?" She said, producing the magic-infused badge.

Hugo laughed, a sharp, delighted sound that filled the quiet hut. He controlled himself after a few moments, wiping a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye. His gaze swept over the silver badge, its ethereal glow, the finely detailed wolf and pine forest, the symbol of immense power. "That," he said, his voice regaining its composure, "could certainly work. I will see what I can do." He turned the badge over in his palm, his smirk returning, now laced with a gleam of pure, joyous calculation. "Finding the right buyer for something this... unique... will require discretion. But the profit margin will be, shall we say, substantial enough to buy us more than just camels. Perhaps even a small caravan for the journey."