Need for Steed: Suravani's Oasis

[Breaker]

The sun meandered over sandy ground until the shadows of the dunes stretched tiredly. Long-winged vultures circled hopefully as the lone rider stopped his horse and made camp, drinking sparingly from his waterskin. The young Fallieni man unpacked his saddlebags and put flint to steel despite the heat, coaxing a few sparks onto a meager bit of tinder he had brought along. He wanted a fire before darkness fell, when the harpies would come out of hiding and the heat of day would disappear with the light. Soon he had a small flame dancing like a Glasswalker moving through the Blight, and he turned to the task of brushing down his horse. They had done well this first day of Suravani's Trial, traveling past the first ten of thirty markers which made up the course.

Breaker crested a dune and, at long last, laid eyes on his opponent. The young Fallieni's fire made him easy to spot in the waning crimson light of the long hot day. Sweat beaded on Breaker's brow and sluiced down his face, but evaporated before it could drip from his chin, so dry was the desert clime. His bare chest shone in the last red embers of sunlight, patterns of scars seeming to shimmer like a mirage. His lightweight white pants and red cloth belt were damp from perspiration. Even so his boots kept his feet blessedly cool, and he marched onward with unwavering resilience.

I must pass him before I rest, Josh told himself, I must, I must, I will...

If not for his ability to summon water from the very air, Breaker would surely have perished from thirst some hours earlier. His skin was seared a dark shade of golden brown from constant exposure to the sun, and only his innate healing ability kept him from truly burning. His close cropped hair felt thick with salt left over by evaporated sweat. As he descended the dune opposite the Fallieni racer's fire he raked callused fingers through his brown hair and licked his palm, a little-known traveler's trick to keep his body from running out of salt. A small breeze teased his tired form as he climbed the next dune toward where his competitor brushed his horse.

The young Fallieni man tried not to show his bewilderment; he'd been certain that Breaker would not be able to catch him. Indeed, he'd placed several side-wagers with friends before leaving, betting that the Coronian would not be able to finish the race. Keeping his eyes down, the racer busied himself with his brushwork as the Breaker gained an even footing with him.

"I hear harpies love horsemeat," Josh said in Fallieni as he trudged by, and imagined that the darkly tanned man paled just a bit at the thought. In truth Cronen knew little of the woman-vulture hybrids, other than that they could not stand being called ugly. This had been on Phyr Sa'resh's list of useful information for surviving Fallien.

Breaker kept walking until the sun dipped below the horizon, cresting two more dunes before stopping. He was on the verge of slumping down in the sand to rest when his eye caught a spark from a nearby copse of cacti. He stared and listened to the wind run over the dunes. There. He heard the distinct sound of steel scraping on flint, and the sparks came again. Who else besides myself and my opponent would be out here? He wondered. A part of his mind told him to stay put, to not stray from the path set out by the leather standards. But his curiosity would not allow him to rest until he knew who was striking a fire so far out in the desert.

Stepping carefully so as not to make a sound, Breaker stole off to investigate.