Need for Steed: Suravani's Oasis

[Breaker]

This thread contains sexual content.

The portal winked out of existence as sand crunched beneath black metal boots. The scent of freshly cut lumber wafting along Concordia's fringe evaporated with the last motes of woodland moisture. Desert sun blasted away everything familiar, leaving only the heat and the glare coming off the dunes.

Joshua "Breaker" Cronen ran a hand through close cropped brown hair and scratched his callused palm across a stubbled chin. Small spiked cacti grew from the granulated sea to his right, and an uncanny rocky outcrop shored up part of the dune to his left. Far ahead the famed Zaileya Mountains reared like a long row of giant fangs. The place looked enough like the picture Jake had used as a reference. The young half elf who provided the portal had insisted; it's a portrait painted from memory by a Coronian spice trader's son... the Fallieni family between the rocks and the bush are on their way to Suravani's Oasis. With no other guide and sweat seeping into the lining of his white denim clothing, Breaker oriented himself with his back to the mountains and strode off energetically.

No wonder the horses here are known as Althanas' strongest... it's as hot as Haide's underbelly.

Between the sun and the sand every bit of him baked, except his fortunate feet. The most mundane of the magicks woven into his patented boots kept them cool as an early spring breeze. The unbridled light seared his skin although he was tanned by Coronian standards, and the brilliance drew dancing spots before his eyes. Sand slipped down the leather interior of his boots as he crested the first dune, already wishing Jake could have come along. With the traveler's talent they'd have skipped from one grit-whipped peak to the next until they reached the oasis. But Jake needed time to marshal his own troops. Breaker had entered the upcoming Gisela Open in Corone, and asked his former student and close friend to command his army's main scouting party. After recovering from the idea of leading a hundred troops, the half elf accepted. Jake would spend the next few weeks teaching a group of elven archers the finer points of traveling by portal, among other useful tricks.

Josh shielded his eyes with a denim clad forearm and pulled his Akashiman jacket up to block the silty wind. Cacti grew more frequently in the shelter of the next dune, and he could see the distinct outlines of several palm fronds against the hazy horizon. The martial artist dropped his arms and spat out sand and cracked his neck. Here's hoping the poor family in Jake's picture didn't perish from thirst. He estimated the distance to the trees and the life-giving water they represented at about a mile, but the sloped dunes and shifting sands would make it feel more like ten. Raising a hand as if holding a glass, he pulled droplets of moisture from the damp sands deep underground and conjured a cup of water made from rapidly melting ice.

The water he sloshed across his eyes and mouth to cleanse some of the grit. The ice he tossed between lips that already cracked beneath the harsh climes. The cool crunch and grind between molars got his mind whirring like one of Phyr Sa'resh's clocks. The wise old dark elf had agreed to command the main forces of Breaker's army, leaving Josh free to work his deadly art in the vanguard. He could think of no better general than Phyr Sa'resh; the old elf had commanded combat across three continents and read more books in more languages than anyone Cronen knew save perhaps the librarian Luned Bleddyn.

Josh stepped forward and ground a heel in soft golden sand. As he navigated the steep incline he pored over the knowledge of Fallien Phyr had shared.

I'm looking for the Deklan or Esseker tribes, he thought as he reviewed the desert dialect he'd learned over the past two weeks, there's no purpose to light cavalry unless it's Fallieni light cavalry; not in the Gisela. Both tribes will kill me if they learn my exit papers are forged, he reminded himself, semi-consciously patting his lightweight jacket. Fortunately he had faith in Sa'resh's document replication skills. Unfortunately, the warnings had not ended there.

Both tribes defend Suravani's Oasis fiercely, Sa'resh had said, doubtless paraphrasing from some dusty old volume, if they feel threatened they may summon mystical guardians to deal with strangers. Phyr had gone on for some time about the variety of mighty beasts the Fallieni worshiped, but finished with a sage assumption. The Deklan tribe is best known for their hordes of giant hounds, while the Essekers are more likely to summon an eagle, or...

Near the bottom of the dune the slope became nearly vertical. As Josh searched for a safe foothold he noticed a shadow growing on the ground around him. His sun-soaked brain relaxed, thankful for the shade.

The griffin's talons struck between his shoulder blades.

[Breaker]

White denim and tanned flesh parted beneath hooked talons. Blood sizzled on sand as Breaker's body yielded against the assault. His feet left the ground and the griffin's swoop pushed him two full paces, to the edge of a bed of cacti flecked with browning flowers. His body bent like a longbow with arms outspread, framed by the crimson-stained wings of his ruined jacket. He reached back and arched further, wanting to cackle beneath the madness of the attack but finding no air in his lungs. Callused hands closed around coarse sinewy raptor legs above the deadly pincers.

Breaker activated one of the more sophisticated enchantments in his black boots and swung the mystical beast like a giant warclub. Every muscle fibre down the front of his core fired in unison, a longbow snapping straight. The magical boots effectively doubled his body weight and Breaker acted as an anchor, swinging his assailant through a wide arc and down amidst the cacti. The boots returned to their normal weight as they thudded on packed sand outside the cactus grove.

The griffin's majesty inspired awe even as it rolled amidst a mess of shattered cacti and stinging needles. Red-gold plumage that melded the colors of sand and sky at sunset covered its torso and forelegs, including the cat-like ears. It had the vicious hooked beak and raptor talons of an eagle and the hind legs and tail of a lion. Its wide golden eyes rolled with rage as it found its feet.

Breaker slammed into the mystical beast without a second thought, bulling it to the ground. Hot sand stung the still-bleeding gash on his back as he found himself overturned by the griffin's massive bulk.

The mystical beast snatched at Cronen with its talons and the lethal beak dipped toward his throat.

Josh rolled away at an angle and kipped to a shoulder stand. His legs snared a massive wing and crossed at the ankles. He torqued his hips and drilled a shallow hole with his shoulders and slewed the griffin forward on its face.

The beast's left hind leg picked up and stomped a lion's clawed paw at the man's face. Its tail lashed displeasure and breath vented from its beak.

Cronen saw the paw coming and rolled forcefully. Lion's claws gouged only sand and the griffin found itself flattened, the pressure on its wing doubled. Josh followed his flow and sat up against screaming abdominals. His long arms stretched and reached around the thick feathery neck. He connected his hands and squeezed.

Pop! The wing dislocated and Josh tumbled away, finding his feet and dusting his forehead before sand could upset his vision.

The fight drained from the griffin like water leaving an unstopped basin. It fell over on its good side, a broken moan emanating from its beak. Its talons and claws spurred the earth listlessly, but the damage to its wing had upset the monster's balance somehow. Even with four legs it failed to stand fully. Its ears and tail drooped as the sounds of pain and defeat dwindled.

"Grant me at least a warrior's death," the griffin said in Tradespeak, the language of Corone. Its words grated like rocks in a tumbler, flecked with ancient accents and agony.

[Breaker]

Crimson-stained sleeves tore as Josh pulled the jacket off. White fabric fluttered to the sand and blood trickled down his back but he paid no mind. Had the legendary creature just spoken?

"What did you say?" Josh gasped, stepping into the uprooted cactus patch. He plucked a long red-gold feather from the sand where it had fallen during the struggle. It warmed to his touch as he poured a measure of his might into it. The bristles still fluttered at the slightest movement, but they'd become sharper and harder than dwarf-forged mythril. Breaker spun the feather beneath the griffin's neck and forced it to rise painfully to plumed knees.

"A warrior's death, young deity." The griffin croaked, beak chopping the words harshly. "Do not go spilling this protector's blood with his own captured pinion. 'Twould send my humiliated soul to the furthest reaches of Haide." The beast arched its back, tightening its throat. "A single blow from that fabled fist should finish this servant of Suravani."

Josh pressed the hardened feather against the griffin's neck. He felt awed to be conversing with a such a mythical creature, but years of experience treating enemies as resources spurred a line of inquiry.

"What do you protect for Suravani?" He demanded, the bladed feather quivering in threat.

"The lands of the Esseker tribes, guardians of the greatest steeds Althanas will ever see." Pride blazed in those great golden orbs.

"What makes the steeds of Suravani so different?" Josh mused calmly, as if back in Underwood discussing tactics with Phyr and Jake. The griffin bristled and drew a fraction of an inch away from the strengthened feather.

"The ground shakes when Suravani's steeds ride forth," it spoke as if quoting scripture, "oasis warriors draw strength from the very backs of the Mistress of the Moon's cavalry. There is no sturdier mount for thrusting spear or drawing bow. A horse from Suravani's Oasis will guard a fallen rider with its life."

A light breeze trifled and a few grains of sand tumbled down the dunes. Breaker released the Oasis Guardian and the great beast slumped flat on its belly, beak nearly gouging the dirt.

"There must be more than one of you," Josh reasoned, speaking as if to an old friend. He circled before the fallen griffin, dragging a boot to clear the ruined cacti. He sat facing the haggard beast and pulled water from beneath the sand once more. This time it rose up infused with muddy grit, and formed into a camouflaged shield that offered them both a moment's shade. The griffin looked up, stunned. Even defeated and demoralized it radiated power - its sheer girth made each motion audible. As the fiery feathers shifted Breaker noticed arcane patterns woven deep into the guardian's pelt. He could interpret little from the unfamiliar design, but they radiated a brilliance brought only by fresh enchantments.

"I am the lion of the skies," the griffin muttered into the dirt, barely understandable with its thick accent, "the Guradian of Suravan-"

"You're a mass of muscle and blood." Josh said simply, "you can't patrol miles of desert day and night." He crafted himself an icy vessel full of water and a matching bowl to wet the griffin's beak. The thing coughed harshly at its first taste, having never supped something so cold. Cronen had to chuckle. The people of the oasis would feel a similar shock. "Where do you roost?" He asked levelly as the guardian drank deeply, "and who weaves the spells that make you silent in flight?"

It was a guess - he couldn't truly decipher the arcane handiwork - but it made sense. Even in a dive he should have heard the griffin coming a league away.

The beast turned its massive head away in a final show of defiance and then slumped, muscles relaxing audibly beneath fluttering feathers. Hot breath vented from the top of its beak like thermals off the dunes.

"There is a place like that you describe," it said, each word a wary tread over quicksand. "An island where the greatest shamans from all the tribes of Fallien gather to raise my ilk." The griffin found some posture again and its voice gained power as pride swelled its chest despite the injured wing. "Any man who can survive the flight over raging seas, through vicious astral winds, and under the illusions that guard Hybrid Isle has the right to learn Lady Suravani's most precious secrets."

"How does one find a griffin for that first flight?" Josh asked, hazel eyes wide as a youngster's at storytime.

"There is a ritual of oils and herbs blended and burned just so." The griffin said, and its vicious golden eyes almost smiled. "We are trained to detect its signature scent at great distances from birth. But once a man climbs between a griffin's wings," golden eyes met hazel, sharp as talons once more, "he must survive the flight or perish at sea. I would offer you this honorable opportunity, great warrior... if you could but repair my wing." It shook the dangling appendage painfully.

Josh allowed the sun to melt their canopy away and paced through the scorching rays to where his ruined jacket lay. He found the folded sheaf of parchment - his exit papers - and tucked them behind his belt alongside the griffin feather.

"My thanks for the tale," he said as he returned and knelt at the guardian's side, "but I've business at the oasis and I'll settle for a ride there. Unless..." he added as the curved beak opened to protest, "you'd rather perish this night alone in the desert. I hear the harpies can be especially ravenous after sundown..."

"Kreeeeack!" The griffin shrieked like a hawk, a deeper and throatier sound of rage and humiliation. "It is the harpies that fill our bellies, not the other way around. Give me my flight and I will help you on your journey, young deity."

Josh dug his thumbs into the stressed muscles at the wing joint, producing another scream from the beast. As the tortured tissue softened against his pressure he rotated the wing up and back and then dug his boots into the sand and slammed bodily against the griffin. They tumbled in the dirt together as before, but this time the griffin found its feet swiftly. Breaker perched between its wings, one hand wrapped around the cleft bone above its chest. Motes of dust scurried into whirlwinds as massive wings unfolded and the griffin began its run.

[Breaker]

The lolloping gait of talons and paws smoothed out as the griffin tore up the side of a dune. Josh felt a stirring of the sand magic native to Fallien and squinted against the grit as a sudden duststorm rose to mask their takeoff. The massive wings unfolded and filled like canvas sails. They caught a hot thermal rising off the steep terrain and rocketed skyward.

Breaker lost himself in the whizzing of air and the sparkle of magic. The same trick of wind that allowed the griffin to dive in silence covered their ascent, but at altitude the magicks shifted again. Folded light flickered all around them, masking the mystical creature's flight. It soared effortlessly beneath Breaker's weight, broad back clenched comfortably between his knees.

Suddenly Cronen's heart leaped up his throat, and he realized the griffin had entered a dive. Josh resisted the urge to clutch at the lush plumage and laid flat on the beast's back, letting the slipstream and his muscular legs lock him in place. Wind howled in his ears as he realized he was at the griffin's mercy - he could kill the beast and be no more likely to survive the fall.

Either this griffin is a warrior true to its word, Breaker thought, or my journey ends today. He could think of no better way to die.

The enchantments woven into that sunset plumage shifted in reverse order. The whirl of colors. The vacuum of sound. The cloaking sandstorm. When he unscrewed his eyes Josh saw they had landed at the foot of a massive dune, perhaps twice the height of those he'd crested earlier. Its near side rose almost vertically, composed of sandstone as much as anything else. As the dune naturally curved it met another with a similar rigid border, and between the two a narrow path led into darkness.

Almost cavernous, but not quite - the bottom of a sandy crevasse. Breaker slid off his mount's back and stepped to the opening. The lethal beak and golden eyes caught the sunlight like a polished statue. Barely a feather seemed out of place. Could this be the same beast that rolled at his knees minutes earlier?

"These paths between high dunes occur naturally over time every few thousand leagues." The griffin said, somehow regal through the crackling voice. "This path leads to the largest oasis camp of the Deklan Tribe." The griffin bowed its head and spread its wings. "I am bound by oath never to assist an outlander in finding the Esseker camp. But the steeds of the Deklans are equal in glory." It perked up again, ruffling its feathers and turning about, gauging the breeze. "For my life I am forever in your debt, Joshua Cronen, but I must fly now to my duties. If ever you have need, burn the ancient herbs and oils. Farewell."

The griffin broke into its shuffling run and then regained some majesty as it launched from the top of a dune. Josh blinked during the dust storm and then lost its outline against the clear blue sky. Only then did he realize he had never told the griffin his name.

Impressive magic, Breaker thought as he stepped into the crevasse's blissful shade. He had to turn his broad shoulders sideways to fit between the sandstone dunes, and still they scraped at his chest and wounded shoulders, but he pressed onward. Soon a hint of fresh life filled the crevasse – the scent of Suravani's Oasis.

[Breaker]

Breaker paused on the brink of the sandstone crevasse, savoring the shade and taking the chance to scan Suravani's Oasis. Scores of tall leaning palm trees stretched out in a lazy circle around a long pond shaped like a figure of eight. A spring must have supplied the water from below, for it was the only natural source for miles in any direction. Far across the oasis pool he could see the shapes of leather tents between palm trunks, presumably the home of the Essekers. The Deklan tribe dominated the near shore.

Their tents stood in haphazard array, lined close to the sandstone cliff for shade where space permitted and clustered in odd bunches around the largest trees. Ash pits and water troughs dotted the camp like pockmarks on a peasant's face, but no fires blazed while the sun stood in the sky. Men and women lounged beneath the palms or performed chores at a lackadaisical pace, keeping their heart rates low during the hottest part of the day. Children on the other hand raced about as if unaffected by the sun; they splashed and played in the pool's shallows and teased the tails of horses hobbled beneath high canopies.

Josh stepped out of the crevasse, only then realizing how well camouflaged the opening was. He could scarcely find it against the shimmering grains of the sandstone walls. Fixing the location in his mind in case he needed it later, he turned and strode confidently through the Deklan camp toward the oasis pool.

The Fallieni took little notice of the intruder; they went about their work and stayed seated in the shade, but each pair of dark eyes stole scornful looks at the outlander. Whispered words passed between adults, and children shied away form the man in black boots. He arrived at the water's edge unchallenged.

Breaker kicked off his boots on the shoreline and waded out 'till water encircled his waist. He knelt down, letting the wetness cover him to the shoulders to feel the true nature of Suravani's blessing. The pool drew fatigue and heat from his body despite feeling as warm as the air. Breaker exhaled powerfully, stirring tiny vortexes in the pool's surface. He thought about Phyr Sa'resh, the old Alerian who'd insisted they needed cavalry from the oasis, and instructed him in Fallieni language and custom. He thought of young Jake Narmolanya, the demon hunting half elf who would head up Breaker's scouting party in the Gisela. He inhaled and thought of what had truly motivated him to enter the tournament. Something that ran deeper than representing the Ixian Knights in battle and proving his worth to the world. The feeling of water surrounding his skin reminded him.

Josh stood suddenly and whirled in a spray of droplets.

A half dozen warriors were approaching the water's edge on light feet. Some wore knuckledusters or bore short staves, but none of the lethal spears and swords they carried into combat.

So. The locals had decided to beat him to death.

[Breaker]

The men brandished their blunt weapons and closed in on Cronen without conversation. They were all short and sinewy, fighters born and bred.

Shorter elves always made the best dragoons, Phyr had reminisced over a glass of good Alerian scotch, and the same holds true with Fallieni cavalry.

A livelihood of scarity and combat had compressed the warriors into lean muscle and gristle. The weapons they bore extended like living parts of their arms. They seemed bored by the task of aprehending a crazy outlander caught bathing in the oasis.

Breaker smiled and spread his arms as if welcoming old friends.

"Take me to your leader," he said in Fallieni, one of the few phrases he had truly mastered. The words impacted the men as much as waves on a cliff.

They wore hardened horseleather codpieces and little else more than loinclothes, save an odd assortment of jewlery, scars, and tattoos. The leader emerged as they approached the waterline, invading the oasis up to his ankles before the rest had wet a toe. Studded knuckledusters bulged around both his fists, and a series of three black rings and matching inked sunspots seemed to denote a rank.

"I guess I can find her myself," Josh muttered, and closed his eyes for a moment. He inhaled and bent his knees, toes digging into wet sand. He heard ten sun-darkened feet splash into the pool's shallows.

Breaker exploded upward in a shower of droplets that turned to flecks of ice. He somersaulted over the men and landed near his boots. Winter visited the oasis in his wake.

The water around the sun-spotted leader's ankles froze first, and the surface between him and the bank swiftly followed suit. The warriors cried out in shock and bewilderment. Some cursed at Cronen whilst others set straight to hacking at the ice, working at freeing themselves. The leader barked orders in a harsh foreign tongue. The ice pellets that had hovered aloft fell on him in a strangely targeted hail.

Josh slipped into his boots and walked bare chested and dripping toward the largest tent he could see with a genuine smile on his face. All of the Fallieni had vanished into their tents leaving a ghostly atmosphere in the desert town. Josh had to thread his way through a haphazard maze of tents and equestrian equipment in order to reach the tall dwelling with a horse emblazoned across its side. He stepped around front and nearly ran into two guards standing immobile outside the sealed flap.

They attacked with their hands rather than reach for weapons, which was smart because it meant they got to live. Breaker slipped left and lunged right and as he moved his elbows crashed into the tanned men's heads. They fell in a heap atop one another.

Josh rolled them almost affectionately on their sides. They'd been quick, and well trained. Perhaps Phyr was right about all this. Breaker stretched up and arched and savored the sun that had scorched him so recently, and then bent forward and ran his fingers through the sand. Suravani go with me.

He undid the knot on the heavy canvas flap and slipped inside the tribe leader's tent.

[Breaker]

The air hung heavy with humidity inside the Deklan chieftain's tent. Moisture beaded on the canvas walls and escaped through vents slit in the ceiling. Two coal-filled braziers burned beneath clay pots containing water dotted with essential oils, filling the air with motes of lavender and lemongrass. The chieftain sat on a throne carved from a single piece of glass, a resource the Fallieni had in greater abundance than wood. The young woman's skin was darker even than most Fallieni, and she had three piercings in the right side of her nose, gold loops that supported an equally precious chain connecting to three matching hoops in her right ear. Her hair was clipped short and aside from the jewelry she wore nothing.

"Who dares enter the tent of Chieftain Sulatam unannounced?" Demanded the chieftain's shaman in Fallieni. The man standing at her right hand wore a long silken sand-toned cloak with strange runes emblazoned down its length in grey and silver. He wore a full-face mask shaped to look like the head of a great hound, which from the thundering nature of his voice must have contained a cone in the mouthpiece, amplifying every word he spoke. The Shaman raised a long, gnarled wooden staff and stabbed the dark sand beneath his feet forcefully. "I said, who dares-"

"Clearly this is Joshua Cronen, the Breaker of Corone," the chieftain said in a voice smoother than her shaman's silk robe, "did your vision not foretell of his coming to the lands of the Deklan clan, and of how he will help us gain control of Suravani's Oasis?"

The cloth mask shifted as the shaman scowled.

"I did foresee this man's arrival at the oasis," he acknowledged grudgingly, "but your interpretation of the vision falls far from my own, great chieftain. I had hoped our warriors would end his Coronian life before he reached this tent." From the sound of his voice, the shaman wanted badly to remove his mask and spit.

As if cued by the remark, a clamor arose outside. Feet beat the harsh sandy ground and voices hailed the chieftain through the tent walls, requesting permission to enter in Fallieni too swift for Josh to catch every word.

"So, you sent warriors to test our savior? Very wise, first of my shamans." The chieftain displayed surprisingly clean white teeth in a crocodile smile. Rather than berate her underling for going against her wishes she allowed him the opportunity to wonder if she'd even noticed, while reminding him he was inherently replaceable. "Leave me with the Breaker now, and assuage the concerns of our warriors."

"As you say, great chieftain. But I think you know our people will see my side of this. We are not fond of outlanders here." The shaman bowed and exited the tent as stiffly as a statue. Breaker could all but hear the anger smoldering beneath the mask; it seemed hotter than the coals in the braziers that gave the tent its red-hued glow.

Breaker sank to one knee and bowed his head, showing open deference to the chieftain.

"Great leader," he said in his best Fallieni, "I have come here-"

"In hopes of recruiting cavalry from Suravani's Oasis?" The chieftain interrupted in flawless Tradespeak.

[Breaker]

Josh kept his jaw from dropping by fixing his patented cocky grin in place. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth combined with the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks gave a wizened look to his face.

"Just how much did your shaman foresee?" He asked indifferently, "if you know what I'm about to do, you may as well tell me. Saves me the time I'd spend thinking about it."

The chieftain laughed like sand sliding down a dune, dry and coarse but somehow musical. She stepped up onto her throne, highlighting her nakedness, and raised her hands as if watching the vision unfold between them.

"He did foresee the arrival of a great warrior clad in white, called the Breaker." She paused for a moment to enjoy looking at Josh's bare chest, "and I see he was at least half right in all these things. He predicted that you would come seeking our cavalry, and that you would have what you sought, one way or another. If the images can be interpreted correctly," she clutched her hands between full breasts and swayed violently, nearly pitching off the throne, "then what we ask in return for our warriors will cast us higher or lower than ever before in Suravani's gaze."

"Surely Suravani would reward an act of charity," Josh pointed out, "why not let me pay for the soldiers in gold and silver, as I would anywhere else on Althanas?"

"Fallien is not elsewhere on Althanas," the chieftain hissed as she stepped down to the sandy floor, "and the oasis is not elsewhere in Fallien. If you cannot win the affection of my people, you will not have what you seek."

Breaker frowned and rubbed the day-old stubble on his chin. He kicked some sand off of one of his boots and turned away from the naked woman, examining the dancing steam above one of the braziers.

"So what would you have of me?" He asked, "If you know my name, you must know of my feats. I could be instrumental in the Deklan tribe's rise to supremacy at the oasis."

"I don't doubt you could," the chieftain hummed around a sly smile, stepping quickly to stay in front of Josh. She knew that as long as she presented her naked body he would have difficulty thinking straight. She had never met a man - or woman - who could say otherwise. "Alas, it is not a matter of a fair trade. If I am to detail my troops to leave the oasis and fight under your banner, I must know beyond any doubt that Suravani approves."

"And how can you determine that?" Josh asked, giving up on looking away. He stared straight at the chieftain and enjoyed the youthful curves and contours of her sweat-slicked body. "Is there a ritual you must perform to seek Suravani's blessing?"

"A ritual? Of a sort..." Seeing that her body had done its work, the chieftain retreated behind her throne long enough to don a fine knee-length wool shawl. The loose needlework left all but her most tempting parts bare. "There is a test," the chieftain said, "Suravani's Trial. Ordinarily it is only used when a warrior sentenced to death contests his charges."

"I am eager to learn of this trial," Breaker said. He strode past the tantalizing chieftain and sat in her throne, finding it surprisingly difficult to stay seated on the glass surface. Being naked and covered in sweat would help, but he had no intention of removing his pants.

"When a condemned warrior enacts their right to Suravani's Trial, the fittest of their comrades is chosen as an opponent." The young chieftain explained. She sloughed both hands up her bare front, gathering sweat, and rubbed the liquid through her stubbly scalp with a sigh. "There is a marked course through the dunes - a three day journey on horseback. Each competitor is given a single waterskin to complete the course."

Josh raised his eyebrows and sat up straight. The challenge would be difficult, if not impossible... for him. Imagining an ordinary man making it through three days of exposure, even the hardy folk native to Fallien, amazed him.

"The condemned must not only complete the course, but do so before their opponent," The chieftain finished, "only then will Suravani have shown her sheltering hand, and the death sentence is lifted."

Breaker whistled long and low, like a tea kettle just beginning to boil.

"May I assume that my opponent will be your fastest rider?" He asked.

"If I may take that as your acquiescence to the test... then yes." The chieftain smiled and nodded thrice, as if completing a ritual. "You will be provided with a tent for the night," she told her guest, motioning for him to vacate the throne, "your trial shall begin on the morrow."

Josh rose and watched the whip of a woman take her rightful place. She looked as natural as a coiled cobra seated on that glass throne. Her terms seemed reasonable and left Breaker feeling confident... somehow, the whole process seemed too easy.

[Breaker]

Two of the chieftain's guards whisked Breaker away to a tent prepared by her servants, wisely without attempting to apply force. The codpiece-clad men yammered back and forth in a different dialect of Fallieni than Breaker knew, but he managed to gather that they were marveling at the paleness of his skin. On Corone Josh made a habit of training shirtless in the sun, and his torso was tanned by Coronian standards. And yet it seemed the guards had never seen such a white body. They delivered him to the tent and then disappeared, still discussing the visitor's pallor.

Breaker decided to enjoy the shade awhile, especially considering his run-ins with the oasis folk had led to combat two out of three times. He lit the brazier provided and sat down on a sea of cushions as steam filled the tent. Heat pulled sweat from his skin until his torso carried a heavy sheen and his trousers lay sodden. Josh removed the ruined exit papers from his waistband along with the grand griffin feather. Good thing the people of the oasis don't seem to care about the papers, he thought as he fanned himself with the feather, leastways, they don't care about mine.

Minutes stretched into hours as Breaker breathed hot, humid air in a deep, relaxed rhythm. The sun set, leaving his tent in darkness save for the glowing embers of the brazier. Breaker rose on occasion to add coal to the fire from a wicker basket but otherwise remained unmoving on the cushions. He conjured and drank icy cups of water when he thirsted and savored the stillness and moisture. He would be spending the better part of two days racing along sunblasted dunes, from the sounds of Suravani's Trial. If it takes a Fallieni man three days... he reasoned, shouldn't take me more than two...

Whether he slept or not he could not say, but the sound of the rough canvas tent flap grating against the wall brought him fully alert. Darkness still pressed in, and the brazier had all but burned out. The heavy cloud of mist in the air swirled as whoever had entered the tent swiftly exited.

Breaker bounded after the invader, black boots crunching the sand, bare torso bladed to avoid an attack, hands up and ready. He caught up with the culprit - a slender young woman wrapped head to toe in linen clothing - and scooped her up like a parent pulling a child from harms way. With one muscular arm pinning her torso and arms to his chest and the other hand covering her mouth, he shuffled sideways back into his tent, barely avoiding her flailing heels.

Josh slammed the woman into the sand just hard enough to stun her, and then straddled her hips while he searched her robe and veiled hood for weapons. He found a bronze push knife strapped to her left thigh and held it up so it glinted in the dying amber light.

"If you scream," he said, being careful not to cover the girl's nose as well as her mouth. Her face was smaller than his palm. "If you scream I'll have to kill you, and the guards will believe it was in self defense. They searched me before they left me here," he lied, "and they know I don't have a weapon. Besides... I am already scheduled to start Suravani's Trial on the morrow. So do not scream. I've little to lose." He took his hand away from her lips.

The young woman's nostrils stopped flaring and she gulped air through her mouth twice, but then regained her composure quickly. She had a pattern of sharp triangular tattoos emanating from the outer corners of her eyes, and they slanted when she looked at him.

Breaker felt as though she was looking down at him, even though he sat on top of her with both wrists pinned above her head in one callused palm.

"I am simply a member of the Deklan tribe." She said in Tradespeak, and only then did Breaker realize he had lapsed into his native tongue. The Fallieni woman spoke the Coronian language well, and she sounded bored. "I heard the great Breaker was amongst us, and I had to glimpse you at rest to satisfy my own curiosity. That is all," she lied.

"I don't believe you," Breaker chuckled. He stuck the push dagger in the sand above her head. She didn't even flinch. He used his free hand to tut the air in front of her face. "First of all, members of the Deklan clan would not call themselves 'simple'. Secondly, no one else here has garb nor tattoos to match yours. And finally... I've had women slip in on me just to glimpse the Breaker before. You aren't one of them. So who are you?" He demanded, and then stood up and strode back to his cushions so suddenly the girl gasped.

"I am Sall'Ema, of the Esseker tribe," she said as she sat up slowly, rearranging her robe. This time there was a tinge of pride in her voice. "I am here evaluating the weaknesses of the Deklans. The rest I said is true. When I heard they had you, I had to confirm it. But if you are to embark on.. on Suravani's Trial..."

"Then I'm not exactly fighting for them, am I?" Breaker pointed out. He smiled.

The girl smiled as well as she retrieved her push dagger and sheathed it out of sight. Her black tattoos made the sun darkened crinkles at the corners of her eyes particularly beautiful. She was particularly beautiful, now that he looked at her... she had a smooth slender stomach and limbs, black hair as fine as sifan, and a full mouth with wide charcoal eyes to match.

"You will not warn the guards of my escape then," she giggled, and dashed out of the tent much faster than before.

Breaker re-lit the brazier and added coal and water and then returned to the pile of cushions that made up his bed. He saw the ruins of his exit papers and...

The griffin feather had vanished, and the girl would already have fled the settlement.

What could she want with that?

[Breaker]

The day of Suravani's Trial dawned as dry and hot as the day before. Breaker rose early and went through a series of long, deep stretches, preparing his body for the next two days. He figured if he rode half the time and spent the other half walking and running beside his horse, he would be able to finish well shy of the expected three days.

Cronen's white denim pants and red cloth belt caught the light as he ducked out of his tent and made his way to what amounted to a starting line.

Most of the village had turned out to witness the foolish outlander attempt to compete at their native sport against one of the tribe's finest riders. They stood in two small clusters either side of a long line in the sand. A young male Fallieni waited next to his horse, and nearby stood the tribe's chieftain Sulatam, accompanied by her shaman. Despite the heat the medicine man still wore his long robe and mask. The chieftain had donned a leather skirt and corset for the occasion.

Sand crunched beneath Breaker's black boots as he paced up to the line.

"Where's my horse?" He asked, looking around as if bewildered, "it's been awhile since I've ridden, but I'm sure I'll manage." Josh was getting used to the harsh consonants of the Fallieni tongue.

The shaman stepped forward, almost certainly grinning wickedly behind his hound mask.

"Surely the great Breaker can run faster than a horse!" He crowed, and the mouthpiece of his mask magnified his voice so that most of the rowdy crowd could hear. "Here is your waterskin," he shouted, producing the item and holding it out, "be glad we give you this!"

Josh sighed and scratched his tanned bare chest. He'd been aware this might happen. I'm not much of a rider, anyway.

"Keep it," he said, waving the waterskin away, "you look thirsty!"

That drew a laugh from the crowd, and Josh grinned. Phyr had told him how the Fallieni considered thirst a weakness, and the ability to go without water a great strength. Hopefully I've just earned myself a few admirers amongst the warriors here.

The shaman stamped the ground and held both hands aloft.

"Silence!" He cried. The chatter and laughter from the crowd quieted. "Good people," the shaman said, "today two souls are set to embark upon Suravani's Trial, not to the determine the guilt of one, but to decide the path our people will take in the future! Watch now as they depart, and three days hence our goddess will give us her decision by the grace of the victor!"

The Deklans cheered and whistled and stamped the ground as their tribesman mounted his steed and lined up next to Breaker. The horse smelled of sweat and manure.

The shaman waved both arms and leaped into the air.

"Begin!"

The horse and rider cantered away in a spray of sand, heading toward a leather standard set atop the nearest dune. The entire course would be marked in similar fashion, stretching out into the vastness of the desert and looping back to the oasis camp.

Josh bowed first to one clump of the crowd and then the other, and finally to the chieftain.

"Send out word to your strongest companies of cavalry," he told the young woman, "I'll want them waiting here upon my victory." He waved to the crowd and set off at a brisk trot, following the hoofprints ahead. I'll let them cut the trail awhile. He put his head down and embraced the grind of running on sand, one backward sliding step at a time.