"Oasis" by Emily Bisset

The troupe had assembled around a puddle that could have once passed as an oasis. Shardra scowled and slipped off the back of her camel, leaving him to wander a moment as she strode down to the old oasis. Some of the other troupe members soon followed, their long knee high desert boots crunching into the sand as they went.

‘Well?’ asked one of the older members. Shardra cast a cold look over her shoulder then crouched down beside the water hole. Clicking her tongue thoughtfully, she scooped out and handful of the wet sand and put it aside. Slowly, she began to dig, much to the horror of the desert members around her.

‘For all the good they are as desert men,’ she muttered in the old Arabic, still digging out the hole as water from below the surface began to fill it slowly. One of the men stepped forward with a harsh look upon his face.

‘Stop speaking your foreign tongue, Lee, for it will get you no where out here,’ he said, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Shardra Lee stood, almost as tall as the man. He was still unaccustomed to her hight and stumbled backwards. She having been from further south than his land, she was still a strange looking one compared to the rest of the troupe. Her skin was darker and hair was blacker- cropped short and held in two little buns upon the top of her head. The women of the Northern country wore their hair in long braids, and it often disgusted the men of towns they visited to lay eyes upon Shardra as it was seen as disrespectful. Shardra’s swords were also despised among the men. Strapped in an X on her back she carried two curved Arabian-Style swords with simple red-leather hilts, but carved designs up the blade. Still, she was a better scout than any they could find in a hurry and had taken her on for she, being Arabian and with a fair amount of OldBlood in her, she had good desert skills. The best among any of the troupe’s members.

‘Perhaps you may say it will not get me anywhere, Jes’ha, but it can make people worried if they know not what you speak of them. If you get men down here to dig this hole, we will soon have a fine oasis,’ with that, she turned and strode off to fetch her camel and set up the tent. Jes’ha and the other men watched her angrily before beginning to scoop out the puddle.

By the time the orange sun had sunk beneath the horizon and the temperature was dropping, they had felled a nearby palm tree and set up a fire. Shardra, as always, had set up her tent as far from the men as possible. She crouched now by the shallow pool with her water skin and filled it to the brim, smiling slyly as she did, before slipping back into the shadows and hiding the skin within her pack. A moment later, she walked over to the fire and sat, gazing into the dancing flames as if hypnotised.

An hour or so passed and the men became sleepy.

‘Tell us a story, Shardra,’ one of the men said, half in jest for his belly was full of the remains of a sweet liquor that he bought for a gold piece at the last town. The rest of the men groaned at the prospect and Shardra looked upon them all with cold eyes.

‘And what ill can come of telling a story? Who knows, perhaps you shall learn something,’ she said, rubbing sand between her hardened hands.

‘Or Shardra you shall bore us to death beforehand,’ this brought a great burst of laughter from the other men but Shardra remained silent and still, her eyes not moving from the flame. Soon the men became silent, often fearing Shardra’s coldness, how she was so unlike a normal woman.

‘Perhaps I shall tell you a story of the Olderdays that was passed down to me from my Grandfather and from generations before him, yes, perhaps I shall tell you the stories of the towers that rose high in the sky, further and then into the clouds. The towers that were made of metal that could be seen through but reflected just like a sword shall reflect your face if you were to polish it long enough. But then, you do not wish to be bored to death now do you?’ here Shardra fell silent again, knowing that any of her tales of the OlderDays fascinated every man around that campfire and none would dare argue against her stories if she would offer them.

Of course there was little known of the OlderDays now, they finished some three hundred years ago and all records of them had been lost, save a few books salvaged, but these were priceless and could not be read for fear that they would fall apart. No one knew, but Shardra kept one such book, which she found when she was a child and made most of her stories up according to that book. Her grandfather had told her some stories of course, but for the most part, she made it up and remembered what was in her book.

Now the troupe of men, even Jes’ha, had fallen silent and just the crackling of the fire remained. Finally, one man dared to speak:

‘Come now, Shardra… Do.. Don’t keep us waiting,’ he muttered, then bent his head as soon as he spoke, and a cold wind whipped around the troupe assembled, sending sparks into the air, and the fire to dance about for a moment.

Shardra bowed her head for a second, before looking up and around at the men. The fire reflected in her eyes and seemed to make them burn. The men almost started back in fear.

‘Very well. I shall tell you a story then, but only a short tale for we have a long journey tomorrow,’ she stared into the fire once more for a moment, before speaking very quietly so the men had to lean forward to hear her properly.

‘The people of the OlderDays forgot about using swordfighting long ago, long before the fall of their power. It was not only war that became their undoing, but their power. They had built cities into the clouds and beyond and lavished in their jewels. There were countries in poverty of course, but they cared not for they were rich. The land we stand on here, and my home land was poor, but perhaps that is why we survived. The OlderPeople travelled not by horse or camel but by strange objects that were no beast. As the OlderPeople’s power grew, so did their cities, until one day, the land crumbled beneath their feet and the buildings in the clouds came tumbling down all around them.’ She bowed her head again for a moment, leaving the men to imagine.

‘I shall tell you no more tonight,’ she stood, brushing the sand off her light desert clothes, then moving away from the fire, feeling eyes on her as she went.

Dawn broke early and she was soon on her feet, quietly packing up the tent and saddling her camel. She squinted into the distance a moment, watching as the sun rose from the east and the heat began to create ripples on the horizon. Kneeling, she tied up the straps to her desert boots, then picked her swords up off the ground and slid them into their hilts. Frowning to herself, she began to pace back and forth at the edge of the oasis, watching the horizon anxiously. Finally one of the men rose and she cast angry eyes upon him, wishing to have departed ages earlier than this. Still, she would not wake the others, let it be their own loss. She watched the horizon for another moment, making out the movements of lions far in the distance.

Soon the other men roused and she gave them harsh glares until they had finished packing up the camp. She swung herself onto her camel and waited for the others to mount their beasts before beginning to lead away from the oasis.

‘We have a long trip ahead of us. I hope you all filled up with water. Three days until we reach the next oasis and then four days till we reach Ankron’ she said, tapping the camel’s hind with a long stick. A great cheer went up at the mention of Ankron. Indeed it was the capital city in all of Shiién, the largest in all the land. It was one of the few towns that was not hostile towards travellers and was thriving with people, being near an almost consistent water supply: the Balay-Hadra. Perhaps the only river in the whole land that didn’t dry up during the hotter months.

‘Remember, while we are away from the oasis, we must keep watch for Jn’ T’hra each night, or we shall awake with no eyes or toes to speak of,’ she said, now taking more to those directly behind her, for the rest were all muttering to themselves in anticipation of Ankron. The J’n T’hra were vicious ape-like creatures with long sharp claws that crept through the night and sliced off a finger or two while their victim was sleeping. Some were known to poke out an eye with their claws and manage to escape before the victim was awake. Such was the J’n T’hra. Shardra looked back upon her motley caravan of ten or so men riding upon camel and horse, sighing again, she turned her attention back towards the horizon and watched as the day dragged on.

As the sun was creating long shadows on the evening of the third night, Shardra gave a cry and pointed into the distance. Ahead rose a bunch of palm trees, signalling their oasis. The camels grumbled out noise in anticipation and quickened their pace, sensing excitement in their riders and were soon racing each other at a trot. As they neared the oasis, Shardra looked out west, shielding her eyes against the setting sun. As she did, she caught a glimpse of gold reflected on the horizon before it became just a doubtful black smudge. She smiled a little at the promise of Cali-Hadros. It would have been a pleasant stop over, had they not been in such a hurry to get to the oasis. Still, Cali-Hadros was going no where, the temple was the oldest in the land now so there was plenty of time to visit it in later days.

Her troupe rode into the new oasis. It was still fairly large, probably some caravan or another had passed through not long before and had widened it, but of course, the Balay-Hadra was not far from that place and underground water canals could keep it wet for some of the year.

Once camp was set, Shardra scouted about the land, gently tracing out footprints in the sand. The men watched her carelessly, happily warming themselves by the fire while she put her skills to work again. She had found several Wolf-Tracks about the area and a few scattered bones, but the bones were weeks old; the tracks were not so. There was also evidence of sandsine- the ferocious jackal-like night shadows that poisoned their prey before eating it alive. These tracks were very old and scattered about randomly.

‘They teach you well in the ShadowLands, Shardra Lee,’ one of the men said, watching her as she went about the camp site, her eyes glued to the ground.

‘Perhaps, but as we near Ankron, the dangers become more intense,’ she muttered scuffing her boot at some sand that had been dug into a hole.

‘Come Shardra, now is a time for eating and resting. We have travelled for three days and finally we reach water, yet you refuse to be off your feet and have a drink with us. We shall set a watchguard tonight if it sets you at ease.’ One man said, waving about a water flask. Shardra looked coldly upon them.

‘I will not be at ease till I reach Ankron. A watchguard can sleep easily enough if his belly is full of fresh water. There is plenty of time for eating and the water does not disappear by night. There are signs of SandSine and Wolves about and it is in your best interests that I am scouting the camp,’ she shrugged ‘but it is by your wish that I come and eat.’ Switching quickly to old Arabic and muttering quietly to herself: ‘Just do not blame me when wolves breathe down your neck.’ Then, she strode over to the fire and sat herself on the sand, taking a cut of the meat that hung cracking over the fire. She took the offered water flask then settled in for the rest of the night.

Midnight came. The moon hung heavily in the sky, near on full and the stars shone brightly. The men were snoring and the fire was crackling quietly. Then from the silence she heard a sharp chattering, almost unperceivable until there came a scrabbling of claws on the wood of the palm trees. She rolled over silently and took up her swords, grasping them both in her hands and then sitting on her bed. She breathed as quietly as she could, swords raised and ready. Suddenly, a black shadow dropped and landed with a quiet thunk at her feet. She heard it sniffing around, felt tiny clawed hands clutching at the end of her blanket. Then, with one swift movement, she brought her sword down and beheaded the creature. Crawling forward, she scowled and muttered a word into the darkness: J’n T’hra. This was enough to wake one or two men, but the others were sleeping on. Carefully, she leaned back to the head of the bed and grasped a long wooden whistle then held it to her lips and gave a shrill call. Suddenly the whole camp was alive and there was an angry chatter from the trees as the men woke and took up their swords. After months of having been woken to the sound of the whistle in drills and in situations like this, the men’s ears had grown particularly sensitive to the sound.

Once all the men were up and ready to fight, the J’n T’hra had already departed into the night once more. Jes’ha now set a watchguard by the fire and scheduled others to wake up every two hours to take over the guard. Then, the night passed silently with just a breath of wind kicking up the sand.

The troupe set out early the next morning at a steady pace, everyone’s hearts were light as the thought of Ankron rose in their minds. They could almost taste the foods and smell the dusty market places of the city. As they travelled, the men discussed what they would be doing within the city and Shardra soon grew weary of their pointless discussions.

They soon stopped talking of Ankron and their adventures within the city and were silent once again as they rode. The sun beat down on them as they went, the air was becoming humid though as if signalling a storm though they knew it was highly unlikely that it would storm on them. By the second day of travelling a rough wind picked up, sending small sand tornadoes about. The travellers donned their hats and veils and rode on, heads bowed to avoid getting sand in their eyes. When they set up camp that night, the sandstorm had died down, but now there was thunder to the east and shards of lightning ripped across the sky, but no rain fell. Shardra sat up some of the night watching the lightning, and wondering if they would ever experience proper rainfall outside Ankron. She squinted into the distance, hoping to see any telltale signs of rainfall through the darkness of the night but there was nothing but desert.

When morning broke, the land was smothered in a heavy fog that was warm and damp. Wearily, the travellers packed up camp and set out again, Shardra gazing into the fog for any signs of the desert animals that took fancy to ambushing people in the fog. By midday, the fog had cleared and the sun was boring down on them as sharp as ever, still they rode on, ever heading for Ankron.

By the third night, they had reached the edges of the Balay-Hadra, just a dried up river bed this far down, still, the troupe let out a great cry at the sight of it and again fired up discussions about Ankron. The city was much anticipated by everyone, though Shardra couldn’t understand why it was the centre of so much hype. Of course it was one of the few unhostile towns with a constant water supply, but the people were still Northenders to her and she still felt as an outsider when she was there, surrounded by the paler skinned people while in their markets. She sat quietly watching the flames, wondering what she would find in Ankron this time. She’d been through twice before and had always come away with something new. The last time she was there was when the travelling company had taken her on. She cast her eyes out north west and almost thought she could see the shining lights of that city somewhere far in the distance.

They set out before the sun had risen that morning, the camels and horses, having recognised the Balay-Hadra sped along with their necks stretched out. Shardra’s camel loped along with them, rocking her clumsily from side to side. She hoped to exchange the camel for a horse while in Ankron. Although camels were more adapted to the desert, she got along better with horses. If she couldn’t find a suitable horse in Ankron, she planned to wait till she got to the Navjit- Old Arabia to purchase one. It is said that they had some of the best-bred horses from the Old Lines.

Soon they came to the wider parts of the Balay-Hadra where dirty water seeped from the larger lake some way ahead. It could be seen sparkling against the sun if they shielded their eyes and saw past the heat-haze. They crossed the river here, finding it easier than crossing the bridge further up. Again, the animals increased their pace, striding out with their ears trained forward. By the afternoon, they were at the eastern walls of Ankron.

‘We can make for the main gateway or for the eastern way. It will be harder to gain entrance through the eastern way but it will take maybe an hour to reach the South Gate,’ Shardra said, frowning a little and turning her camel to face the rest of the troupe.

‘I think we should go in the North Gate. It won’t be shutting for a few hours yet,’ she said, gaining the approving nods of some of the men and undecided glances from the others. With that, she led them onto the banks of the Balay-Hadra, which snaked its way around the wall before entering the South Gates and dividing into many tiny little paved rivers that ran along the side of the streets. The main delta of the Balay-Hadra was found outside the South Gates of Ankron though, almost like a large jelly bean that hugged the south walls. Ankron had been fashioned in such a way that it was almost a circular city, ever extending northwards but positioned so it fitted perfectly on the Balay-Hadra. Most of the Balay-Hadra westwards of Ankron were just dried up salt flats and no one travelled there save to gather salt.

By the time they reached the South Gate it was just on sunset and stretched outside the gate, they found a line of people waiting to enter the city. The travellers, bewildered, lined up none the less and looked around anxiously. Shardra rode forward a little way, unwilling to ask any strangers what was going on, they probably didn’t know either. As the last of the sun was sinking below the horizon, they finally came to the archway that formed the gates. Guards checked them over suspiciously before letting them through. Once inside the town, they found the reason of the hold up. Banners stretched from one side of the street to the other welcomed everyone to the Moon Festival. Shardra cursed herself for being so ignorant, of course- this was the first full moon of the year and Ankron celebrated it. All the bards of Syol’a journeyed down to provide entertainment and even folk of the Navjit came up. It was indeed a memorable event. Unfortunately, most of the inns were booked out at the time of the festival and finding accommodation was hard unless you wished to stay in a dive.

‘I know of an inn that I am staying at. From here, we are separated again. If you wish to find me, come to The Oasis. That is the name of the inn. I sincerely wish not to travel with you again, but if you are desperate, I shall oblige. Farewell Jes’ha, if we ever meet again, I shall be most unlucky,’ Shardra smirked a little and bowed upon her camel, before turning and leaving the startled men behind in the middle of the crowded streets.

She soon reached The Oasis. She was friends with the manager and he always had a room to spare for any Southerners. Mostly, the inn was full of them and it was the only place Shardra felt any where close to home. She tied her camel out the front and entered, the bar falling silent. She cast her dark eyes about a moment before striding forward to the barkeep. All the patrons of the bar were men, but not all were from the South. Those that were watched her for a moment of two, admiring her swords and rugged appearance before going back to their drinks. The North-Men watched her suspiciously for a while, before muttering things to each other and turning away. She scowled towards them then turned to the barkeep.

‘I’d like a room for tonight,’ she said, pulling out a leather coin pouch and placing it on the counter. The barkeep looked mildly startled and wary of her swords for a moment, unsure of what to make of her scruffy traveller’s appearance before he shook his head a little.

‘There are no rooms,’ his voice had a hint of Arabic as he spoke but she wasn’t going to push it.

‘Can I speak to the owner?’ she asked, shifting her weight onto her other foot and causing her boots to creak under the strain and a small amount of sand trickle onto the floor. The barkeep looked uneasy, then called out a name before moving off to serve one of the men. A moment later, a large dark skinned man appeared from around the back. She smiled cooly upon seeing him and held up the bag of coins.

‘A room?’ she asked in common tongue, though knowing he could speak Arabic just as well. He looked unsure for a moment.

‘You know how hard it is to give rooms to everyone this week,’ he said, running a hand through dirty hair.

‘Come now, I know you have a spare room ready for Southerners,’ she said, sliding into Arabic and quickly catching the attention of some of the North-Men in the room. They glared at her suspiciously.

‘You have been here but two times and you think you know all my secrets. Yes I have a spare room but it will cost you more than usual.’ He grumbled, also switching to Arabic. She nodded her head.

‘Very well then, I have just come off a job and have enough to spare on your rooms if I must,’ she said, tipping several gold coins onto the counter top. The man nodded his head then bade her to go get her packs before he showed her to her room.

Shardra slept deeply that night, spending no time in the street festivals outside, as she had not been in a bed for over a month now. The festivals could wait. The next morning, she awoke to the sound of a shrill whistle, jumping suddenly to attention before realising that she was no longer with the troupe. Frowning, she peered outside the window of her room. Down in the streets below were a thousand brightly-coloured stalls. The caravans had arrived in the city- ready to sell their goods. Sliding wearily from her bed, she dressed in her usual attire- tight suede brown pants, light desert top and the long knee high desert boots. Last of all, she slid her swords into their sheaths and tied her hair up. Looking herself in the mirror, she smiled a little before making her way downstairs and out into the markets.

She had been in markets before, but none such as the moon festival. Even those in The Navjit had heard of the famous festival but few had actually been to see it. She slowly meandered her way through the coloured stalls and tents selling various goods- mostly silks, clothing, skins, desert-wear and from the few bards who would spare their talents to commoners- musical instruments from Syol’a. She walked, stopping occasionally to finger the silks and other finery that she saw no logical use for. The market was a bustle of activity, full of hundreds of people from the surrounding towns: Sansuk, Syol’a, Amfar, Navwar, Ditpra and even those from The Darthmoor. This was rather unusual as that particular town was right on the borderlands of the Navjit and people rarely ventured into the other towns further north, even if they were considered Northerners. Their clothes and darker skin could distinguish the people of The Darthmoor. Although their skin was not as dark as those of The Navjit, they farmed trees that grew in the rough country in the mountains which gave them coloured cloth unlike any that the Northerners had. Most people avoided those from The Darthmoor as they were largely seen as Outsiders, remote from the rest of the world.

She soon came into a huge market square. Ankron had about four such market squares, each as large as each other. They were selling animals here, and the grunts and groans of camels, whinnies of horses and sharp barks of the chandir filled the air. The smell of hay and straw made it humid inside the square, but a breeze passed through every now and then, relieving the air for just a moment. Shardra wandered slowly from one pen to the next. She had never been particularly interested in chandir- the large ostrich sized birds upon which people could ride. All she really wanted now was a horse, and to sell her camel. She wandered for a while and began to think her search for a horse here would be fruitless until a dark skinned Southerner caught her attention. He was sitting by a pen full of wild looking horses. She made her way over to him and looked the horses over. He quickly sat to attention and watched her as she stood on the railing of the temporary fence to watch the horses.

‘Are you interested in a horse?’ he asked gruffly, his accent was thick with Arabic/Navjitic. She cast her eyes down on him for a moment before nodding her head slightly.

‘I would like an Arabian horse… I’d like it white, but so far I’ve found nothing that’s come close,’ she said, stroking the neck of a horse that brushed past.

‘I have a white Arabian. With a bit of feeding and training he would be a fine beast I am sure, but he might be too wild for you,’ he said, moving over to the stall.

‘I have a good camel if you would like it,’ she said absently, trying to spot the white horse among the others.

‘He’s not in there, I put him the street back here. He doesn’t get on well with all the horses in there,’ he said, watching her search for the horse. He stepped off the railing and led her around to the side street where a few horses were tied. There stood a tall, rather scrawny white stallion. His muzzle was grey and he was a little dirty, but with a bit of work he would look magnificent. The stallion whipped his head around to look at them as they stepped into the laneway. She walked over cautiously and held out a hand. The stallion pulled its head into the air and snorted rather angrily before settling again.

‘I think I shall have to buy him,’ she said, gently stroking the horse’s neck.

‘I will trade for your camel and five silver pieces,’ the man said, untying his horse. Shardra nodded.

‘Very well then,’ with that, she shook his hand, arranged payment, then led the horse back to The Oasis.

That night she spent her time wandering through the city until she reached the far side where all the bards of Syol’a were assembled and playing dark music. Shardra missed the music of The Navjit, but the bards had adapted all the styles of Shiíen so it still had the Arabic feel to it. She climbed onto the roof of one of the near by houses and sat cross legged beneath the stars, listening as the bards weaved magic about the town. It was a big event, obviously, for soon the whole huge market square was full of people dancing and swaying as if hypnotised to the music. Shardra let her eyes wander casually, half tapping her hand against her knee in time to the music. Most of the people below were brightly coloured, dressed in their fine silks and linens. There were people who were not unlike herself seated upon the surrounding rooves. These people wore desert gear and carried some kind of weapon or had that rugged appearance about them. No one on the rooves danced. It seemed as though these tall places were reserved for watchers. Reserved for those to survey the goings-on below. There was only ever one or two people on one roof, they were obviously not social, much like herself. She smiled a little at the thought that there were people a lot like her, no matter where they were from.

Late into the night, three men climbed onto her rooftop and situated themselves as far to the other side as they could. From there, she heard them muttering.

‘Do we have any news of Sarhlan?’ one said, his voice was deep and gruff and he mumbled to avoid being over heard.

‘He travelled north with a caravan,’ a high pitched voice now, he seemed rather nervous, glancing about anxiously.

‘To find new land, like an old explorer? The fool. He’ll find nothing but desert which ever way he goes,’ the first voice again, angrily now. The third voice began to object, but was interrupted by the first voice.

‘And even if there was anything but desert past Shiíen’s borders, no one would believe him once he got back anyway,’ now the voices faded off, but Shardra’s mind was racing with ideas. An explorer! She thought of her old book and recalled images of great vastness of oceans and green trees where it always rained. Perhaps it would be an impossible journey, but it would be better than travelling with a motley bunch of Northerners that had no real destination in mind. She had her horse now, all she needed was a group of travellers to come with her. The plan rapidly hatched in her mind- she would head for the Navjit and make her direction from there. She would need to buy a map and plenty of supplies, it would take months, maybe for them to find anything at all. Perhaps they would travel west into the unknown lands and past Solin. But that was dangerous. More dangerous than anything else that she knew of. The people of Solin couldn’t be trusted. She made her way slowly off the roof, deep in thought. She would gather her caravan together and then together they would decide which way. She would gather her caravan the next day.

Day came swiftly and she had had little sleep, thoughts of the expedition whirling like a sandstorm around and around her head. She rose swiftly the next morning, heading down into the bar. From there, she summoned up the barkeeps and paid them a gold coin each if they would spread the word that she needed at least ten willing men who would come with her on an unknown adventure. Then, she set out into the streets again. She made her way to the animal-market area and searched about for a cheap camel. Now, she regretted trading hers, but the horse would suit her better anyway, the camel was just going to be a pack animal. She found one large camel for five gold pieces, which was terribly cheap and so proceeded to pay the man gladly. Then she searched around for extra water skins and other desert gear- veils against sandstorms, dried meats and dried fruit. She had soon gained a fine supply of things, and was running low on gold by the afternoon. She loaded all her new supplies into the camel’s pack saddle which her old animal used to wear.

She decided that she would search for willing explorers on the rooves of the houses, for they seemed enough like her. So, as soon as sunset fell, she made her way over to the Market Square and climbed onto a roof. Each of the houses had little passageways and bridges over to the next roof, so she climbed through one such passage and onto the next house. There crouched a man, probably younger than she, holding a sharp spear. He glared up as she approached, his eyes full of unwary fire. How was one to pick suitable candidates for a journey such as this? She moved onto the next roof where another bunch of men was standing. Each had a long sword by his side, but she didn’t like the look of any of them either, and again moved on.

On the next roof, she found a group of about six men, their features hard to distinguish in the darkness now. She made her way closer to them before frowning a little; they were a few of the men from her old travelling company.

‘Hello Jes’ha,’ she grumbled, seeing that he had spotted her. He nodded his head slightly, his eyes fixed on her for a moment.

‘We came searching for you at The Oasis, and some bar keep asked us if we were interested in an expedition. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of this?’ he asked her in his usual gruff tone. The other men payed her no attention, they instead stood at the edge of the roof to watch the goings-on below. Shardra half smirked at Jes’ha and wondered if she should tell him that it was her expedition or if she should leave him to find out. She thought it better to play mind-games with him than to tell him now.

‘No, I had not heard, though I doubt I shall go to this meeting, I have plans of my own,’ she replied, before bowing slightly to him, her eyes shining with cruel enjoyment, just imagining his reaction when she stepped up to announce her plans. ‘I must be leaving now, Jes’ha. As I said, I have many things to do,’ she half bowed again then left, climbing down off the rooves and deciding to leave finding her caravan till that night. For now, the library was her destination.

She walked briskly along the crowded and dirty streets of Ankron. The city smelt of meat and salt and sweat, and the roads were hot and dusty, bodies pressed in on every side and the noise of the crowd was a jumble of voices selling goods and general babble. The library was on the opposite side of the town, nearest the north gate. She pushes her way roughly through the crowds, being bigger than a lot of the fully grown men there. She soon became frustrated with the almost stand-still traffic and the masses of sweaty bodies pressed in against hers. She was almost tempted to pull out her swords and clear the path for herself. Of course, so much as laying a sword blade on anyone would cost her her head, so she resisted and forced herself to keep walking.

When she thought she was finally about to explode, the crowd thinned and formed one orderly line, which meant the North Gate was coming up. She let out a sigh of relief and unclenched her teeth and hands. She came to the library, a large sandstone building of two stories and a real wooden door. She looked a little startled at the door, wondering how one was supposed to use such a contraption, it wasn’t at all like the hessian that was usually strung across entrance-ways. She put two hands firmly on the wood and pushed. Sure enough, the door swung open and she was flooded with a rush of cool air from within. She stepped through the doorway and cautiously pushed the door closed once more, but only gently in case she were to break it.

She looked all about the library. There were only a few books, kept in glass cases scattered about the room. New books were never made, as it was a waste of valuable paper. Sometimes papyrus books were made, but papyrus was also valuable and only came from certain parts of the Navjit. The library contained mostly maps (made of papyrus or leather), that one could buy at a great expense. There were also a number of other texts written on leathers in the shelves that Shardra wasn’t interested in. She walked to the counter, the man behind which looked rather scared and intimidated by her.

‘I need a map. A leather map. Papyrus rips too easily,’ she said, pulling out her coin pouch before watching the man carefully.

‘What part of Shiíen is the map to cover?’ he asked, pulling down a handful of leather maps from the shelf.

‘I need the map to cover all of Shiíen, the Navjit and what ever runs below there, and west of Shiíen as well.’ The man looked rather surprised at her request, then he began to chatter nervously to himself as he searched through the maps. She could pick up some things in his babble ‘a woman wanting maps,’ ‘no maps of the south west lands,’ ‘she’ll have my head,’ ‘look at those swords,’ and so on. He soon found a map from his pile, and unrolled it for her to see.

‘Now, this map isn’t exactly what you’re looking for, it shows all of Shiíen and then down to the Border Fence but it stops there. It has included the west towns as far as Solin, I hope this will suffice…’ he trailed off, almost cringing as he looked up at her.

‘Why does the map not extend past the Border Fence?’ she asked, snatching the map from him and looking it over as he twitched his fingers anxiously.

‘Well past there is the Outlands… None may go there, it’s cursed. Everyone knows that. And anyway, there is nothing but desert past the fence,’ he said the last sentence quickly as if he wanted to speak no more on the subject. Thoughts began to form in Shardra’s mind again now. Cursed? A silly superstition to scare off travellers, to keep them within safe boundaries. As for being nothing but desert… we shall have to see about that… Still, the man could be right, it may well be all desert like he says… I will decide which direction to go once I am back in the Navjit, just like I decided. She looked to the man who was now fidgeting and rubbing his hands together nervously.

‘Yes, I shall take this map,’ she said, dealing out a few gold and silver coins and placing them on the counter. The man scooped them up quickly and then waited for her to leave, obviously wanting her to leave his shop as quickly as possible.

She strolled back to the Oasis, pushing the people out of her way and being generally lost in her own thoughts. The crowds had thinned now, the gates would be closing soon, and the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, sending red and yellow shafts of light through the town. The first music could be heard starting up from one of the market squares and the heat was slowly diminishing, a chill breeze taking its place. By the time she had made it back to The Oasis, it was dark, lanterns dotting the street had begun to appear and the hessian windows were bathed in a yellow light from inside.

She pushed aside the hessian door and stepped in. The tavern was full of men, all drinking and yelling to one another. She slipped over to the bar, some people clearing out of the way for her, giving her strange looks as she passed. She called over a bartender and leant in to ask him (quietly so that no one else could hear) ‘Are all these people here for the expedition?’ the bartender shook his head a little ‘Most are, others are here just to drink.’ He then ran off down the other end of the bar to serve some drunkard who was yelling insults to him. She wandered about the bar a minute before moving to the middle of the room and climbing onto an empty table, waving her arms about and yelling for silence.

The crowds died down a moment later and she breathed a slight sigh of relief, though some mutterings were still passing about the tavern. She heard a startled and disgusted remark from Jes’ha who had obviously figured out that it was her expedition. She took a deep breath, unable how to begin.

‘Greetings. I assume you’re all interested in the proposed expedition. To start with, I haven’t an exact idea of where I wish to go as yet, I hope to return first to the Navjit, then decide my direction from there.’ A great uproar filled the room as the men argued among themselves. She held up her hands again and the noise died down. One man stepped forward and yelled up to her:

‘You are a woman though! How would you be able to lead anyone across the desert, and even more, be able to amount to something in the end?’ A great cry of approval went up at this man who looked around nodding and waving his fist about.

‘And what’s more,’ yelled another man from within the crowd, ‘you are a Southerner!’ This sent up a huge raucous of arguments, as there were many Southerners present. She sighed a little and waited another moment or two.

‘I was raised in the desert, I have skills twice as good as anyone in here who may claim to be desert folk but really only long to be in the safe-haven of the cities again…’ here, she let her eyes wander casually to Jes’ha, who narrowed his eyes and scowled in return.

‘But that does not change the fact that you are female and should be staying at home like other females, not out in the desert!’ another loud burst of approval before a few men got up and left, obviously needing to hear no more.

‘What I offer you is an adventure, if you are not interested now because I am female, or because I am of the Navjit, leave because it will make it easier for me to count how many still remain to hear. What I offer is a challenge, to go places men have not been before. To be the first to go somewhere and set foot where no one has ever set foot before. Stay, who ever wishes to stay and perhaps come on my adventure, or leave now, if you wish only to aimlessly roam the deserts,’ she had plunged the crowd into silence, each of the men were watching her with the lantern light sending uneasy shadows darting about the room. After a moment or two, at least three-quarters of the men stood up and left or returned to the bar, muttering to each other. She was left with about fifteen men, including Jes’ha.

Shardra still stood on the table, looking them all over for a moment before unrolling her map and holding it up. A few gasps went around, they knew she must have a fair amount of money to have purchased a map.

‘Now, we’re here, in Ankron, I wish to go to the Navjit and from there, either south, or west,’ she pointed to all the places on the map, knowing most men there had never seen one before and knew nothing of how to read them.

‘Isn’t south of the Border Fence cursed?’ one man asked hesitantly from near the bar. Shardra turned her eyes to him and looked him over a moment before nodding her head a little.

‘People may say it is cursed, or that there is nothing but desert beyond, but is it not an explorers job to find out what lies beyond unknown places?’ She shook the map a little and watched as the man stood up slowly.

‘Well it’s not an explorers job to get themselves cursed,’ he then turned and left, followed by another two men, both of whom agreed that the journey would be too dangerous. That left thirteen, including her. A good number for an expedition.

‘Meet me here at the Oasis tomorrow morning, an hour after the sun is up, and we shall buy provisions then leave two days from then. It shall take us at least two weeks to get to Achven if I remember correctly. Farewell, and I shall see you in the morning,’ with that, she stepped off the table and made her way down to her room, the noise of the men started up again as soon as she had shut the door.

The morning next was bright and clear, it had a little breeze that picked up the dirt and flung it about and streets. Shardra waited outside the Oasis, leaning up against the walls of the inn, her eyes scanning about the crowds of people for a familiar face. Half an hour or so went by and still no one had arrived. Finally, a small group of people were seen pushing their way through the crowds. They assembled before her, Jes’ha, two Southerners and two more Northerners.

‘This is it? Five including me?’ she said aloud, frowning a little and looking them over.

‘The others slept on it and decided not to come,’ one man said, his voice infused with a strange accent, the accent of Syol’a or The Darthmoor perhaps.

‘Well, perhaps we shall find some more people in the Navjit,’ she said, sighing a little. They set off them, pushing their way through the busy streets, though most people stepped aside of Shardra with her swords if they saw her coming. They reached the first market square and browsed around for a while. She already had most of her provisions ready from previous trips, all she lacked was food and a good pack-camel or chandir. Though chandir were usually used more for riding, their long legs were particularly useful for covering distances with speed, they preferred to travel at night, their feathers not having adapted to the desert heat as well as camels and horses had. She found a small stall that sold desert gear and bought herself some sandstorm clothing and some veils to protect herself from the sun as they went. Soon enough she found a food stall and bought salted meats and dried fruits and other exotic foods which the stall owners had travelled all over the land to collect. This done, they moved into the animal’s market place. Each of the group members went their separate ways to find an animal or pack animal for the trip. Shardra soon found some reasonably priced camels and bought two. Water could not be wasted on too many animals.

She called the group together again and looked them over once more. They looked like an average bunch of people, most with beards and rough faces and messy hair.

‘You have two days to collect anything else you may need. At sunrise on the second day, meet outside the Oasis and we shall begin our journey to The Navjit,’ she smiled around at them, a little coldly for the Northerners looked somewhat distressed at having to go into the Navjit, or at having to go at all.

‘Farewell, and we shall meet again in two days,’ she smiled again, raised a hand, then led her two camels back to the Oasis.

The days passed quickly and she awoke an hour behind sunrise on the second morning. She gathered all her things and hauled them down to the stables, putting all the travelling things into bags on the pack saddles and saddling her horse. She rushed about getting things ready before finally dawn broke and she led the animals outside and waited. Finally the rest of the men came up along the road. Most had camels, though she spotted a pack-horse somewhere in amidst them. The group stopped before her and she heard mutterings about her horse. She was trying to think of a name for him and had so far been unsuccessful. He had calmed down a little and was getting used to being ridden as she had been taking him out for the last two days. She was about to swing onto his back when she struck a name: Tilhin. She whispered it out loud and watched as the horse swivelled his ears back curiously. She smiled a little then pulled herself onto his back, made sure the camels were tied properly then set off, leaving everyone else to follow behind.

Once they left Ankron, Tilhin had his head down and was lifting his hooves nervously. His whole back was hunched up like a spring ready to bolt, but Shardra wouldn’t let him.

‘It shall take us about four days to reach the oasis,’ she yelled, turning around in her saddle to look behind. Jes’ha rode along with a sour look on his face and she began to wonder why he had decided to come along.

The sun began to rise in the sky and the desert began to warm up as they went in silence. Tilhin calmed down a little but was still like a loaded spring.