Out of Character:
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.
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