The hot, whipping sand slashed across my face. I was used to it by now; I had endured worse endeavors in the hoarse, heat infested desert. The horizon was presented in waves, not that much was seen beyond the billowing sand dunes that were carved anew day after day by the winds in the first place. It was common. I was used to it. I rode with my companion, Ariaric, who had taken me from my cozy little home. I hadn't really been taken, to be fair; he asked if I wanted to come, to experience the outside world. Of course I did. It was the only thing I wanted to do. It was perfect. We rode on and on through the desert, encountering an occasional small settlement on our way to the southern coast.
We took shelter in the ruins of the old cities when we had the chance. Aric, as he liked to be called, told me a lot about the factual and mythical past that forged Fallien into the "desert wasteland," as he called it, that it was now. It was interesting but not nearly as interesting as the stories that Aric had about himself. He was originally from Salvar, a land of frost, snow, and ice. I had never seen any of these things. They sounded terrible, he told me that extremities could be literally frozen (also something I hadn't ever heard of) off. Frostbite he called it, it sounded terrible and powerful to me. I was comfortable in the heat; I wore a drab poncho, my brown hair shielded from the sun. I gazed out at the landscape, took in a deep breath and let it out. My horse, Shadow, trotted alongside Aric's small pony named Razah. I wondered how he came with names like that, or where his name was from. He only told me that it wasn't Salvaran, but wouldn't ever say where his name originated from.
Our eventual goal was to get to the port city of Bah'rah, pay for passage to the mainland and continue to our destination, though neither of us had a clue where we were headed, and hopefully find something "fun and exciting to do" as Aric put it. I wasn't sure what he really meant by that, but I found out eventually.
Often we would find the ruins of the old, crushed cities. They were fairly safe, though they never quite felt like they were. Some danger stalked in the night in the old, beaten streets. The tall, threatening presence of the shattered buildings around us added to the paranoia. Their majesty still echoed in the ruins oftentimes, shadowed only by thoughts of how greedy and opulent our ancestors were and how it doomed them.
Eventually we reached a small town called Shala, translated; it means “great pearl.” The town itself wasn’t anything special. There was a large well, about five or sixes homes, all had barns, stables, and the some sort grain in the fields around it. Hardly a pearl or a town.
"Let's see if we can stop and get some water, shall we?" Aric asked, trotting alongside me on his horse.
"I don't see why not, I sure could use some, we've gone almost all day without any!" I knew what I said was true because I couldn't gather enough spit in my mouth to get rid of, what little I did have I tried to keep in me. Getting rid of too much water in the desert meant you would die sooner or later. Usually sooner rather than later. I had hoped that we'd hit a town around midday, when the sun was at its highest, shelter would have been nice then. It was now mid-afternoon and the sun blazed on us, casting long, dark shadows.
We came up to a small shack, dismounted our steeds and knocked the door. After a minute or so, as we began to walk away, a small, wrinkly old woman opened to the door so fast that it could have killed a person. "What is it, you're interrupting my afternoon nap you wretch of a child!" She never looked us in the eyes, she instead stared down toward my knees, as if she were expecting a shorter person.
"Uh, hello." I stated, almost fiercely interrupted by the small woman.
"By the gods! You aren't that little rascal, are you? How many of you are there standing outside my door?" Her voice raised to a disturbingly high level, though I doubted people were still shocked, since she had started almost just as high.
"Just two of us." Aric answered quietly. We waited for a response for enough time to make us feel awkward.
"Well, if you can't tell I can't see a damn thing! I'm blind, y'see?" The lady turned around quickly, beckoning us to come in. We followed. "You see, I live here with my dear little grandson, who is creating quite a havoc around the town lately! Old Betty was complaining to me the other day, can you believe that!"
"No, we can't, why would Old Betty do such a thing?" Aric took control of the conversation.
"I damn well don't know, I wouldn't have said nothin' if I knew, now would I?" The lady felt around, dropping herself into a chair and picking up two knitting needles, along with a partially finished item connected. We sat and listened to her ramble on and on, never getting her name. On two occasions, one of us slithered off to fill our canteens with water, we tried to act engaged in what she was saying, but it was mostly rambling.
We politely made our leave, saying that we had come to the wrong house by accident and she scolded us for such a shameful act and half-chased us out of the house. We left town after our horses drank buckets of water from the woman's well. We were going back into the desert, heading south.
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