by E J Gilmour
‘What! Married! I can’t believe it!’ shouted Quade, shaking his head and laughing.
‘It’s true. I’ve become a little respectable,’ said Red.
‘A little?’ questioned Quade, rolling his eyes.
‘Yeah, just a bit,’ replied Red.
‘Amazing! I remember the streetwise kid living rough in Talis, and here you are…a knight, married, and a friend of a king.’
‘It’s been an adventure,’ said Red. ‘What about you, Quade? What are you doing in Vastoria?’
‘Ah, yes, that’s a story. I went west from Ancora after we arrived there. I planned to keep going all the way to Iarthar and the Far Western Lands. I ran out of money in Sabulo and had to work as a peddler. I learned to navigate the wastelands and deserts between the Adira River and Sabulo. The way across the desert gradually became more and more dangerous. In the end I had to look for something else to do. I started working as a bodyguard which didn’t last long. I got desperate in the end and I found myself working as a baker. I worked my way up through the ranks of the Baker’s Guild. All the old guilds of Sabulo have lost their power in recent years, that’s why they were going after the bounty on the four of you.’
The evening went on with more stories and conversations. Eben decided he liked Quade; he was a friendly drifter. They rested well that night. Eben awoke early the next morning and watched the sun rising over the dunes.
**
They followed the northern edge of the Deep Desert. By midday they were exhausted. The horses were struggling and dehydrated.
‘I can’t stand this place,’ said Red. ‘What happened to this land to make it this way?’ he asked, not expecting to be answered.
‘They say that the Prince of Shadows cursed Vastoria,’ said Cassiel. ‘These were once beautiful lands in the Forgotten Age. They belonged to the Astarian Fiora. The Prince of Shadows came and burned down all the forests and killed everything that lived here. It is also said that he destroyed Vastoria because he was jealous of Fiora. The wind blew away all the soil and only the sand and clay remained. This land was called Fairaria in those days.’
‘The quicker we cross the better,’ said Red, irritated by the swarm of sand flies buzzing around his head.
‘You should try living here for a few years; you’d have nothing to complain about then,’ said Quade with a laugh.
‘No thanks.’
They rode on for the remainder of the day. As the evening approached they came to a place where there was a deep gorge and a dry river bed.
‘This is the desert well I was telling you about,’ said Quade.
Down in the deep of the gorge there were actually small trees growing. It was an oasis in the desert. Quade led them down the slope and along the dry riverbed where they were protected from the wind. Further ahead they could see a small grouping of mud huts.
‘Let me do the talking,’ said Quade. He walked ahead of them toward the huts.
‘We’ve come to buy water!’ he shouted. A few moments later two men appeared. They were wearing long overcoats and black turbans. Only their eyes could be seen as their faces were covered by cloth.
‘We don’t sell to anyone,’ replied the Well Keeper.
‘Why not?’ asked Quade, surprised by the answer.
‘Orders from the Skatheans, no one buys water or they will kill us.’
‘Since when?’
‘For the last month. The Skatheans are trying to stop anyone crossing the Deep Desert.’
‘How do you survive then? Don’t you trade water for food?’ asked Quade.
‘We do, but the Skatheans say no,’ said the Well Keeper.
‘You shouldn’t listen to the Skatheans. The time of the Skatheans is coming to an end in these lands,’ said Cassiel as he rode up beside Quade.
‘Their time is not at an end yet,’ said the Well Keeper. ‘The Skatheans rule the Vastorian Wastelands, and until they don’t we will listen to them.’
‘We have a problem then,’ said Quade sternly. ‘Because we can’t go on without water, and we certainly can’t turn back to Sabulo.’
‘It’s not our problem,’ said the Well Keeper gruffly.
From behind the huts another man walked over. He was clothed in the same manner of the two others, but he had a curved Vastorian sword at his belt and a small circular bronze badge affixed to his chest. His face was covered by a black metal mask.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked in a deep and strong voice.
‘They won’t leave without water,’ said the Well Keeper.
The man with the sword stepped forward fearlessly. ‘We have nothing for you. Move along.’
‘You’re a Desert Knight?’ asked Quade coolly.
‘Yes,’ replied the man.
‘I didn’t realise the Desert Knight’s took orders from Skatheans,’ said Quade, taking a tone that mocked the Desert Knight.
‘We don’t,’ said the Desert Knight firmly.
‘The Well Keeper says he won’t sell us water because of the Skatheans. You’re helping the Skatheans by telling us to move on without letting us take any water.’ There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence.
‘Who do you serve?’ asked the Desert Knight.
‘I serve no one,’ replied Quade.
‘Everybody serves somebody; you’re a fool if you haven’t learned that yet,’ stated the Desert Knight sharply.
‘We serve the King of Ortaria. We are on our way to Faircastle,’ said Cassiel.
‘You mean you’re going to the council?’ asked the Desert Knight.
‘You know of the council?’ asked Cassiel, surprised.
‘Indeed, we have sent our own envoy to attend.’
‘This is Sir Red of Ortaria; he is the Ortarian envoy. We need water to continue our journey. If the Desert Knights have sent a representative you must realise that we are on an important mission.’
The Desert Knight looked at Red for a few moments and then back to Cassiel. It was impossible to know what he was thinking because of his mask.
‘If the Ortarian Knight asks for water he can take it,’ he said firmly
‘I ask for it,’ said Red instantly.
The Desert Knight turned to the Well Keeper. ‘Let them have water. The Desert Knights are bound by an oath to give assistance to the Ortarian, Scaldonian, and Irvarian Knights. It is our tradition. I therefore will not stand in your way, Sir Red.’
‘Thank you,’ said Red.
They were then led beyond the huts to a place where there was a small pond. The horses were allowed to drink. They refilled their water skins and then rested by the water. After several minutes the Desert Knight walked over to them.
‘You must be the one who they call Eben?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I am Eben.’
‘Word came to Vastoria that a hero by the name of Eben has appeared in Ortaria. I have heard you helped the Ortarians win a battle in Scaldonia. They say your skills with the sword are unmatched and muckrons scatter before you.’
‘I do my best,’ said Eben modestly.
‘I am a swordsman and a master of Grecob’s Method. I am wondering who you studied with and which method you use?’
‘A hunter taught me how to use the sword.’
‘He must have been a master,’ suggested the Desert Knight.
‘He was a good swordsman, but I knew him as more of a huntsman. I don’t follow any particular method.’
‘Interesting, then you must be a natural.’
‘I suppose,’ said Eben. He didn’t want to mention the Sword of Light to the Desert Knight.
‘My name is Arthur. I am pleased to have met you.’ Eben stood up and politely shook Arthur’s hand. ‘I am sure we will meet again,’ he said. He then nodded and walked away.
The night grew cool and dark. They camped beside the pond with the permission of the Well Keeper. The gorge kept the wind away and there were few sand flies. The following morning they set out early. They felt refreshed and rode quickly west
ward. They entered the plains of the Deep Desert which were completely flat and extended as far as the eye could see. The ground gradually became hard clay. Not even weeds grew, and the entire plain was completely devoid of any life.
‘Many people meet their end out here. If you try to cross without enough water this place consumes you,’ said Quade, his dark eyes scanning the horizon.
‘Are we likely to meet anyone?’ asked Cassiel.
‘Sometimes I see people out here, and other times I’ve crossed and haven’t seen a soul, but I doubt we will see anyone since the Skatheans have closed the wells. This place can send you a little crazy; it’s something to do with being all alone with so much space. The main problem out here is running into groups of Blue Caps.’
‘Blue Caps, out here?’ asked Cassiel, concerned at the revelation.
‘What are Blue Caps?’ asked Stella.
‘They’re nasty little men who bore deep into the desert. If you stray too close to a colony they all come out in groups of hundreds and swarm you. They then take you away and keep you as a prisoner deep beneath the desert’
‘What do they look like?’ asked Stella nervously, her eyes searching their direct surroundings.
‘They look like miniature men. They are not taller than the height of your knee, and they are incredibly ugly. We should be fine with the horses. If you’re ever out here without a horse it would be difficult to outrun them. You’d probably end up as a Blue Cap breakfast.’
They rode on throughout the day and saw no other men and no signs of any Blue Caps. The hazy horizon extended out before them as far as they could see. As night fell they set up camp. Cassiel used his magic to make a fire. At first light the following morning they set out again. The day was a little warmer and the wind had subsided. They struggled onward, and by late in the afternoon they had come to a place where the clay surface gave way to white salt lakes that extended as far as the eye could see. Not a drop of water remained in the lakes.
‘Across these dry salt lakes we will come to the Adira River. If we move quickly we should arrive at the western side of the Deep Desert tomorrow. The Adira River is not far,’ said Quade.
‘The sooner the better,’ said Red, clearly flustered.
‘Look,’ said Stella, pointing westward toward the horizon.
In the distance they could see horsemen galloping toward them. The sun was low in the sky, and the riders shimmered on the desert horizon.
‘Are they Skatheans?’ asked Red.
‘It’s hard to tell,’ said Quade. ‘There are three of them.’
‘I think we can handle three Skatheans,’ said Red confidently.
‘Maybe,’ said Cassiel anxiously.
Eben stared as the riders slowly approached across the plain. When they came into view it was clear they were not Skatheans, but they were dressed in the same manner as Arthur with their faces covered by dark metal masks. They wore the small round bronze badges over their chests which revealed they were Desert Knights.
‘They’re Desert Knights. Be careful; Desert Knights can’t be trusted,’ said Quade.
‘What do you think they want?’ asked Cassiel.
‘I’m sure we are about to find out,’ replied Quade.
They waited in silence as the three riders approached. The Desert Knights halted their horses about twenty yards away.
‘We greet you, Ortarians,’ said the leader. ‘I am Dillon of the Desert Knights. We have come to warn you. Word came to us from our kinsman, Arthur. He said that you are being pursued by a large group of Skatheans. The Skatheans arrived at the Eastern Well shortly after you were there.’
‘How many Skatheans?’ asked Quade.
‘At least twenty,’ replied Dillon.
‘Twenty,’ repeated Cassiel, shaking his head in shock.
‘Yes, they are not far from you now. We have come to offer you safe passage through the tribal regions to the north. From there you can come to the Adira River further away from Darancra. The Skatheans won’t be able to follow you. If you continue west from here you will find that the Skatheans rule the southern reaches of the Adira River and you will meet your doom.’
‘Why do you want to help us?’ asked Cassiel coolly. Dillon didn’t answer straight away. He looked to his two companions, and they whispered among themselves.
‘We do not want to help you,’ he answered flatly. ‘Arthur, our kinsman, has requested this. We would have avoided contact with you if not for his request as we have little care for you or your business. Now that we have met we are bound by oath to help the Ortarian Knight who rides with you.’
Eben looked to Cassiel. ‘Should we accept?’ he asked in a whisper.
‘It seems that Arthur is on our side even if these Desert Knights are not,’ replied Cassiel, also whispering. ‘If what they are saying is true we would be fools to go west from here. The tribal regions are probably our best option. I think we should go with them.’ Eben nodded and gave it a little thought. The last thing that he wanted to do was to walk into a trap set by Skatheans. Knowing that they were being followed so closely was cause for great concern.
‘We accept your offer of help,’ said Eben.
‘Follow us,’ said Dillon as he turned his horse around and galloped north.
CHAPTER FIVE
They rode north quickly and came to the edge of the plains of salt. As the day progressed they entered an arid land where only small brambles grew from the dry sandy soil. The landscape became ever so slightly undulating. The harsh wind of the salt plain had been left behind.
‘At least something grows here,’ said Red, looking sullenly down at a prickly bush.
The Desert Knights led them onward and continued northward without delay. Eventually, as the day was drawing to an end, they came upon a shallow gorge, and the knights led them down and along the base. The temperature had dropped significantly, and they could feel moisture in the air. They followed the dry base of the gorge westward. After a few minutes they came upon a small settlement of mud huts. The Desert Knights halted their horses and indicated for the others to remain in place. Dillon dismounted and walked toward the mud huts. Several rugged tribesmen approached him from the settlement.
‘We request sanctuary for the night,’ said Dillon.
‘And you will have it,’ said an older tribesman. The tribesman had a long dark beard and a deeply weathered face. A few quiet words were exchanged between Dillon and the tribesmen who nodded several times and then indicated for them to pass.
Dillon led them beyond the huts as the gorge curved around toward the north. The area widened significantly as they rounded a final corner. Before them was a shallow lake surrounded by hundreds of mud huts. Across the lake was the entrance to a large dark cave. A trickle of water slowly poured down from the cave into the crystal clear lake below.
‘This is the home of the Jeanians. They’re a large Vastorian tribe. They have no allegiance to the Skatheans,’ said Dillon. ‘We will be safe here until the morning. Tomorrow we will ride northwest toward the Adira River. The river is about a day and a half away from here.’
Dillon led them over to the side of the lake. The locals kept their distance and refused to speak within earshot of them. Eben felt that if the Desert Knights had not been with them that the Jeanians would not have welcomed the company. They set up camp beside the still lake.
‘They are very aloof,’ said Stella.
‘They don’t trust outsiders,’ said Dillon, glancing from Stella back toward the grouping of huts where a small gathering of Jeanians kept a watch on them from a distance. ‘That’s why they have survived here for so long. In the old days they were the largest tribe in Vastoria, and they subjugated the lands to the west of the Adira River and most of the Deep Desert. In recent times they keep to this hidden gorge and several other concealed springs throughout the desert.’
Dillon looked back to Stella and then across to Eben. His dark metal mask made it impossible to see his expression
‘They say that the Jeanians were here when the Ecorian Emperors ruled Veredor. They follow the old ways of that ancient empire. They will serve no one but the Ecorians. For a long time they waited for the return of the Ecorian Empire. Of course the Ecorians are no more. The Jeanians have a legend that says the Ecorian Emperor once lived in that cave across the lake for a year. They say that the water came up from the deep to greet him. Supposedly the Ecorian could mysteriously draw the water from the deep and create springs in the desert. This is the last large lake; there were once many throughout the Vastorian deserts. The cave across the water is revered by these people.’
‘I had no idea there was this much water this far out in the wasteland,’ said Quade.
‘They guard this place with their lives, and they only allow Desert Knights to stay here. No other outsiders are ever allowed to pass through this place. They would kill you if we weren’t here accompanying you.’
They all looked across the lake at the trickle of water that splashed down from the cave creating ripples in the clear shallow water.
**
The sound of a commotion woke Eben from a deep sleep. He quickly sat up and could see their camp was surrounded by a multitude of Jeanian tribesmen. The sun was just beginning to rise. At first Eben thought they were in danger, but then could see that the Jeanians were actually staring out across the small lake with wonder in their eyes. A raging torrent of water was rushing from the cave. The lake below was rapidly deepening, and a stream was starting to flow through the gorge. The group stood and watched with the Jeanians as the flow of water grew.
‘This is a sign!’ cried an old Jeanian tribesman. ‘We have waited for sixteen hundred years. Our time has come again! The Ecorian Empire will return! The water flows like the days of old!’
More Jeanians gathered as the lake filled, and they cried with joy. They all believed it to have great significance.
As the Jeanians celebrated a lone hawk descended from the skies above. Dillon raised his hand. The hawk landed on his wrist. He took a small piece of paper from its claws. Moments later Dillon released the hawk. The bird of prey quickly ascended back toward the sky.
