Salvation in the Land of Sand ((Solo))

[Porter le Deuil]

" É extrangeiro. Que é certo que muito. "

" Você encontrou uma saÃ*da para passá-lo sobre? "

" Não. E ninguém do quarto do Outlander relatou qualquer um que falta com sua descrição. "

" Você pensa que pôde ter sido navio destruÃ*do? "

" Isso parece provavelmente. Eu suponho que nós não saberemos para certo até que acorde. "

" Sim. Você é direito. Vamos deixá-lo descansar. "

====================================

"...Er.......Mmn......Glor...Gloria........uhng... ...."

" Está falando em seu sono. Pode você compreendê-lo? "

" Não. Não está falando claramente. "

The blonde haired man groaned and mumbled in his sleep. His body twitched as if he were being prodded repeatedly with a sharp stick. Images of his lost love haunted his dreams. He shook back and forth before awakening from his nightmare violently.

" GLORIA!! "

The blonde haired man shot up suddenly, his eyes wide with fear. He panted heavily as his eyes shifted back and forth, scanning the dimly lit room. He was laying on a leather mat that rested on a dirt floor. Above him stood a dark skinned man and woman. The woman seemed frightened, but the man had a very welcoming look on his face. The blonde haired man spoke out hastily.

" Who are you? Where am I? What happened to--"

" Calm yourself friend. " Interrupted the dark man. " You are in Fallien, at the northern tip of the country. They call it R'uuya. The Spicefields of Fallien. My name is Bashshar. This is my sister Adiva. "

" Ugh...my head...Fallien? " said the blonde haired man as he rubbed the back of his head.

" Yes my friend. You appear to have had a rough journey. What is your name? "

The blonde haired man paused. He tried to think back to remember his name, but memories of an amber eyed woman shot suddenly and overwhelmed his mind. He winced in pain before motioning to speak again.

" ...I don't know. "

The dark haired man looked back to his sister with concerned eyes. She shared his concern, and they both watched as the blonde haired man once again lay down, closed his eyes, and drifted off into a deep slumber.

[Porter le Deuil]

The blond haired man opened his eyes slowly, batting them for a moment, trying to adjust to the light. He sat up, letting the silk sheets that covered his body slip off of his chest. He yawned deeply as he stretched out his arms. He glanced about the room once again and only then did he noticed his sword nestled in the corner of the unusually large tent. He didn't see his armor anywhere and assumed he must have lost it somehow.

The blond haired man rose to his feet and walked over to grab his sword, only to realize that he was completely nude. He panicked for a moment, looking about the room frantically for any form of clothing. Just then, as he pranced about naked, two young women entered the tent carrying jars of water. The blonde haired man froze in his tracks and the women and the blonde haired man stared at eachother for a moment. The women looked first at his face, the further south, then back at his face again, then back south again. The blonde haired man tried to cover himself with his hands as best as he could. His face turned red as he motioned to speak.

" Uh...good morning? "

The two women screamed, dropping their jars onto the dirt floor, spilling water everywhere. They ran out of the tent shouting for Bashshar, who came running to them, thinking they were being attacked.

" Ablah! Ghayda! Que é errado? "

" O homem do blonde! Está andando em torno de despido na barraca! "

" Que!? Tentou fazer exame da vantagem de você? "

" Nenhum no. do No. Era acordar justo. "

" O Oh meu era ele grande. "

" Ablah! "

" Que? Era! "

" Você dois entra na outra barraca! E traga para trás alguma roupa! "

Bashshar entered the tent and immediately covered his eyes.

" Ah! My friend, please! "

" Sorry! Sorry sorry ! Uh.."

The blonde haired man reached for the silk sheet and quickly wrapped it around himself. Bashshar peeked through his hands to make sure the blonde man was covered. He sighed with relief.

" Ah, much better my friend. "

" I'm so sorry. I just woke up and then those young women came in and...I'm sorry. "

Bashshar laughed as he tried to reassure the blonde man.

" Hahaha. No appologies necessary my friend. You meant no harm. If anything you simply gave my nieces an unexpected show! Hahaha! "

The blonde man smiled. It was the first time he could remember smiling in a long time. The two men shared a moment of laughter which only subsided when one of the young women from before came in. She handed Bashshar a pair of white linen pants, which he tossed to the blonde man.

" Now get dressed my friend. Everyone is waiting to meet you. Not many Outlanders journey this far from Irrakam. But I warn you, not all in our village are happy with your arrival. So be prepared for anything. "

Bashshar and the young woman exited the tent, allowing the blonde man to get dressed. The young woman looked back one last time and giggled as she walked away. The blonde man let out a sight of relief as he slipped the pants on. They were comfortable enough, but the waist was just a bit too big. The blonde man looked around for a bit, searching for something to secure his pants. He noticed something sticking out from underneath his bed. He grabbed the piece of cloth and tugged on it until freeing it loose from the weight of the small bed. It was a deep red sash. It was a little dirty, but it would do fine. He wrapped it around his waist and tied it tightly with the knot on his right side. He brushed himself off lightly and made his way out of the tent.

The blond man stood in awe as he tried to take in everything he saw at once. The bright orange sun was setting over the horizon. It lit up the sky in hues of pink, purple and orange. There were palm trees scattered randomly about the small village and they swayed gently with the wind. The nearby river glistened like diamonds in the setting sun. The air was cool and crisp. It smelt of frying meat, a scent that taunted the blonde man as his mouth filled with saliva.

" Ah! My friend! Come join us! " Bashshar waved at the blonde man, inviting him to join the other people that were gathered to meet him. Men and women, children and the elderly all were gathered together. Some greeted him with smiles, others with scowls. The blonde man shook hands with everyone as they passed by and was even greeted with a hug or two, though some refused to touch him and simply turned away in disapproval.

Bashshar walked an elderly woman over to the blonde man slowly, holding her hand all the way. He uttered something to her in their strange language. She walked up to the blonde man and gazed up at him. She inspected him for a moment, then beckoned him to come closer. The blonde man knelt down to bring his face even with hers. Bashshar spoke up.

" This is our eldest woman. She watches over our village. "

The blonde man nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to the old woman. She stared deeply into his sea green eyes and smiled. She spoke quietly to him.

" Oh que homem considerável você é. Certamente você é um presente de Suravani. Você será sabido como Isaiah. "

She turned to the crowd, which fell silent the moment she turned. She spoke aloud to the crowd.

" Isaiah! "

The crowd cheered and clapped at once. The blonde man was very confused. Had he done something right for a change? Bashshar pulled him aside.

" The elder has given you a name my friend! "

" A name? "

" Yes! You did say you did not know your name, yes? "

" Yes. What name has she given me? "

" She calls you a blessing from our Mother Goddess Suravani. She has given you the name, Isaiah. "

" Isaiah...What does it mean? "

" It means Salvation of the Lord. "

The blonde man said the name to himself once again with a smile. Perhaps he had found a new home.

[Porter le Deuil]

When the sun finally set, the people in the village joined together in celebration. The harvest this year was bountiful, and Isaiah's arrival was surely a sign of good things to come.

A large fire was built near the river's edge. It was here the people celebrated. They danced and sang as a few of the younger men hammered on small, leather-skin drums with their hands.

The main dish was some sort of meat that was a bit more lean compared to what Isaiah was used to, but he enjoyed in none the less. It was seasoned with the exotic spices the villagers themselves had cultivated, making it a meal that was surely fit for a king.

Although there were many who welcomed Isaiah, there were still those who watched him with unwavering eyes. One man in particular, possibly the largest man in the village, had not taken his eyes off Isaiah since the celebration began. He appeared to be bald from the front, but in the back one could clearly see that his hair was braided into a long pony tail that stretched past his waist. His body was thick, his muscles toned, and his eyes as black as coal. Isaiah ignored him for the most part and instead tried to enjoy the festivities.

After the people had their fill, they all gathered in a large circle further away from the fire. Inside the circle stood two men. One of them was the man that had been scowling at Isaiah all night. Isaiah turned to Bashshar, and spoke to him.

" What is going on? "

" Ah it is a wonderful event indeed. During every celebration, our village hosts a small Bandesh contest. "

" Bandesh? "

" It is a fighting style that focuses on grappling attacks, and forcing your opponent to submit. "

" I see. Who are the men in the center? "

" The smaller man is Imad, a blacksmith. "

" And the larger man? "

" That is Kedar. He is possibly the fiercest warrior in our village. No one has ever bested him in combat. It seems he has expressed some hostility toward you my friend. "

" Yes, I noticed. "

" No more words my friend. They are beginning. "

Drums began to beat a fast, exilerating rhythm as the match began. For a moment the two men circled each other, neither one making an offensive move. Then, in an instant, the large man moved in. He immediately wrapped his arms around the smaller man's waist and slammed his body into the sand. Within seconds the large man had the other in a head lock. It didn't take long for the smaller man to tap the other's shoulder, forfeiting the match. The large man rose to his feet and raised his arms, letting out a shout of victory. The people cheered and clapped as he helped the other man to his feet.

" That was much quicker than I expected. " remarked Bashshar.

" Você! Eu desafio-o! " shouted the large man, pointing directly at Isaiah.

At this point, almost everyone in the crowd had their eyes locked on either Isaiah or the large man. Isaiah did not understand the words the large man used, but he was no idiot. He knew a challenge when he saw one. Bashshar attempted to translate.

" My friend, Kedar has--"

" I know. " interrupted Isaiah.

" You have no obligation to fight him my friend. Because he is undefeated, he is the only man who is obligated to meet a challenge. You see--"

Before Bashshar could finish, Isaiah rose to his feet.

" I accept your challenge. " proclaimed Isaiah. The crowd was silent, however, as Bashshar seemed to be the only person in the village who could speak Isaiah's language. Bashshar sprung to his feet and made his way quickly to Isaiah's side. He placed his hand on Isaiah's shoulder as he spoke quietly.

" My friend, please! You must not fight him, you are sure to lose! This man is a trained fighter! "

" So am I. "

" With the sword! Not with your hands! Please my friend, I am begging you! "

Isaiah shrugged Bashshar's hand off of his shoulder and marched to face the large man known as, Kedar. The two men stood just inches from each other, glaring viciously into the other's eyes. The sounds of whistling, cheering and clapping all were muffled by the pounding of Isaiah's heart in his ears. He had not felt the thrill of battle in what seemed like an eternity.

Each man took several steps back and waited for the drums to sound. Seat began to run from Isaiah's neck, down to his chest. A gentle breeze blew in from the south, cooling the sweat on Isaiah's body. He clenched his fists as his heart began to beat harder and harder. The anticipation was enough to drive him mad.

" Fear not my friend! " shouted Bashshar. " Because you have not been trained in the art of Bandesh, neither you nor Kedar are bound by it's rules. You may fight as you please! "

An almost sadistic smirk crept across Isaiah's face. This match would prove to be much more interesting than the last.

Without warning the crowd fell silent, and the drums began to play. Immediately both men darted forward, nearly sprinting at each other. Sand flew up from their feet in a flurry and vanished with the wind.

Both men let out a blood curdling battle cry as they drew closer. Just yards before they reached each other Isaiah leapt into the air and brought back his right arm. Kedar stopped in his tracks and mimicked Isaiah's attack. Time seemed to slow as the moment of their inevitable contact grew closer and closer.

The men's bodies rotated with their fists, bringing their arms about with enough force to put a dent in an iron chest plate. Both men's arms wear nearly completely outstretched now, it would come down to whoever's reach was longer, or it would have. Just before Isaiah would have made contact, he rotated his body one hundred and eighty degrees in the air while simultaneously bringing down his left elbow with full force, effectively evading Kedar's punch.

Kedar did not have time to react, for Isaiah was too close. Isaiah's elbow came down hard, crashing into the left side of Kedar's chest.

Kedar fumbled backward from the force of the impact and gasped for air. The blow had knocked all the breath from his lungs. Meanwhile, Isaiah landed on his left side in the soft sand. The impact of the landing did little more than force a bit of air from his chest. He quickly rose to his feet again and charged immediately at Kedar, who had not quite regained his breath. Isaiah tilted his right shoulder downward with his arms ready to grab Kedar, attempting to tackle him to the ground. But just as Isaiah grew close enough to grab him, Kedar dropped to his left knee, grabbing Isaiah's right arm. Kedar then used Isaiah's own force against him and flung him over Kedar's shoulder and flat onto his back into the sand below.

The impact was enough to stun Isaiah for a brief moment, giving Kedar plenty of time to grab Isaiah's head, and force him into a headlock. Isaiah struggled for air as Kedar's massive arm clenched his neck tighter and tighter. Kedar mumbled something in his native tongue. Isaiah didn't understand, but it couldn't have been anything pleasant. Isaiah calmed himself for a moment, steadying his breathing as best as he could. He reached up for Kedar's head and took hold of his long ponytail with his right hand, pulling on it hard. Kedar let out a cry of agony as he tried hard not to release his grip of the blonde haired man. However it was futile. Isaiah had pulled hard enough to get Kedar to lower his head within grabbing distance. Isaiah reached up with his left arm and wrapped it around Kedar's head. He then released the man's ponytail and brought his right arm to join his left. he then lifted his legs into the air and brought them down, allowing gravity to roll his body a bit. Isaiah cried out deeply as he used his arms, his abdominal muscles and the force of gravity to bring Kedar over his body, headfirst into the sand.

Kedar was now completely upside down. Isaiah immediately wrapped his legs under Kedar's armpits and around his chest. Isaiah then pushed Kedar's body forward with his arms, bending Kedar's spine in a way that no man should bend.

" Submit! " shouted Isaiah. Kedar screamed in agony as his bones began to crack. Isaiah shouted once again.

" Submit!! "

Kedar reluctantly tapped Isaiah's back. Isaiah released him and slowly stood to his feet. Kedar lay in the sand, eyes closed, panting slowly. Isaiah's eyes moved from Kedar to the surrounding crowd. No one said a word. All stood silent, mouths gaping.

Bashshar moved into the circle and took Isaiah's right arm in hand, raising it into the air.

" Isaiah!! " shouted Bashshar. The crowd roared into a cheer that could shake the foundations of the tallest tower. Many ran in to congratulate Isaiah on his victory. They patted him on the shoulder, shook his hand and spoke to him in their strange language, undoubtedly giving him praises. Isaiah smiled. He was pleased, but his eyes wandered back to Kedar, who still lay in the sand. Isaiah walked over to him, and stood over his body. Kedar looked up at him with a shameful face. Isaiah reached down to help him up, but Kedar slapped his hand out of the way. Kedar rose to his feet and forced his way out of the crowd. Isaiah watched him in dismay. He did not want to make enemies. He simply wanted to prove his worth.

" My friend! My friend! " Isaiah turned around to see Bashshar standing behind him, smiling widely.

" My friend! You are truly a miraculous one! None has defeated Kedar before! "

Isaiah smiled lightly. He nodded to Bashshar, and rested his hand on his shoulder.

" Thank you. But I am no miracle. "

Isaiah slowly made his way out of the crowd and walked back to Bashshar and Adiva's tent. Though he had claimed victory, he couldn't help but feel that his hasty actions would come back to him in time.