The desert unfolded beneath Fas’s powerful wingbeats, the limitless open rippling ocean of gold and ochre under the fading twilight. The goggles SJ wore proved invaluable immediately, cutting the glare of the low sun and protecting her eyes from the stinging wind-whipped sand, as they flew low over its unending surface. Kibble flew in perfect unison with Fas, with his small eyes magnified by his goggles, occasionally letting out curious squeaks.
The scene below didn’t change. Sand and more sand in every direction SJ looked. The town had disappeared behind them some time ago now, and SJ wondered how far they had already travelled. She was struggling to judge distances because of the environment. Her display was slowly opening as the fog of war cleared from her map, but with the visibility that dusk brought, the band was very narrow. They hadn’t flown long when Fas banked slightly, his massive head turning. “Down there,” his deep voice rumbled, carried by the wind. “The caravan.”
SJ followed his gaze, picking up what had attracted his attention. Below, stark against the smooth curves of a dune slope, lay the scattered wreckage. What had once been several large, sturdy sleighs was now splintered wood and tangled canvas, half-buried in sand—darker patches stained the sand – spilt cargo, liquid of some sort, or something worse. A few figures lay motionless, partially covered, near the largest wreck. One sleigh lay completely upside-down, its runners pointing helplessly at the darkening sky. No movement stirred the scene except for the relentless wind already beginning to sculpt new drifts over the tragedy.
“The storm hit them hard,” Fas observed, a grim note in his voice. “The guard wasn’t exaggerating. Fly low, see if anyone...?” he trailed off, already knowing the answer.
They circled once. Nothing moved except the sand. The utter stillness was more chilling than any cry for help. The desert had reclaimed them swiftly as the dunes shifted with the night’s breeze, slowly swallowing the remains.
“Nothing we can do,” Fas said heavily, angling his wings southward again. “The oasis isn’t far. Let’s make camp before full dark.”
The sight of the shattered caravan cast a sombre mood over the rest of the short flight. SJ hugged Kibble a little tighter, the wyvern responding with a soft, comforting purr against her chest as she lay across his back.
Soon, in the distance, a welcome smudge of green appeared, resolving into a cluster of what could have been date palms back on Earth and clumps of thicker vegetation surrounding a small, glimmering pool. Fas descended smoothly, landing on a patch of hard-packed earth near the water’s edge, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Kibble swooped in gracefully and landed next to him, before SJ hopped down and grew.
The air here was noticeably cooler by the glimmering pool’s surface and carried the scent of damp earth and moist air – it felt refreshing after the desiccated expanse.
The oasis was modest. The central pool, fed by some unseen and unknown source, was clear and inviting. SJ immediately had the urge to dive into its welcoming surface, almost taking over. Around it stood several crude, dome-shaped huts constructed of sandstone with palm fronds used to cover openings and what appeared to be blankets hanging in doorways. They were nothing compared to the domes in the town, looking significantly more dilapidated. Several had cracked walls, where over time their structures had been crippled by the shifting winds, and the roof of at least one had collapsed inward, but they offered undeniable shelter from the harsh elements.
“Alright,” Fas said, reverting to his human form and stretching. “First things first: water. We need to refill our skins, and Kibble will need a drink too.”
SJ had been drinking from her skin without even realising as they flew.
Kibble hopped towards the pool and was about to drink when Fas stopped him.
“Don’t,” Fas hissed sharply.
Kibble froze, his tongue half protruding, as he was about to lap from its cool surface.
“The water can’t be drunk. It may provide sustenance for the plants, but it would be toxic to any beings,” Fas said. SJ was now glad she hadn’t dived into the pool.
“Why is it toxic if plants grow here?” SJ asked.
“The water is filtered up through salt rock. You don’t want to be going anywhere near it; it will cause you to dehydrate rather than hydrate. The plants have adapted.” Fas approached one of the large barrel cacti growing near the huts. “Can you see the white trails running down its sides? The plants can excrete the excess salt, whereas we can’t. These cacti, though, will provide us with the water we need.”
SJ could see the white crystalline lines that ran down the cacti’s surface where it had settled at its base. The cacti looked no different to those on Earth, spikey and uninviting. SJ had never understood the number of her friends who owned cacti on Earth. To her, they had no appeal.
Fas removed the cactus tap from his inventory, and SJ moved beside him to learn how the rather strange-looking object could be used.
Fas opened the callipers’ jaws of the tap and then, carefully looking at the cacti, positioned them around a small protrusion on the cacti’s surface. The funnel-shaped element was not in contact with its surface. SJ watched in amazement as Fas closed the contraption. As the blades of the callipers dug into the cacti’s surface, the slight bulge on the cacti grew, and then, with the release of pressure like that from a well-embedded spot, a thick, gloopy syrup was ejected.
“Urgh,” SJ said, looking at the sickly yellow gloop.
“Don’t worry. It will run clear in a moment,” Fas said as he applied further pressure. “Grab your waterskin.”
SJ took her waterskin and held it near, but not under, the funnel, as the gloop from the initial pressure release, which contained the cacti’s flesh, dripped from it.
“As soon as it runs clear, start collecting. One good cactus should fill a couple of decent-sized skins,” Fas said.
The liquid did indeed run clear, and as it did, SJ placed her skin under the funnel to collect it. As she did, she dipped her finger into the flow of the juice and licked it. It tasted sweet, almost like flavoured water.
SJ filled her skin and then a shallow bowl for Kibble, which Kibble lapped eagerly. The water was fresh and incredibly welcome.
While SJ filled her skin, Fas had drunk heavily from one of his own, and as SJ finished filling Kibble’s bowl, Fas topped his skin back up.
“Excellent,” Fas said as he removed the cactus tap. As soon as he did, the bulge where the liquid had been escaping seemed to shrink back inwards, and only a thin trail of liquid escaped. It appeared the cacti’s water would not go to waste if it wasn’t emptied.
“We’d better find a hut for the day ahead,” SJ said. They chose the sturdiest-looking hut, sweeping out accumulated sand and debris with fallen palm fronds. Fas lit a small, contained fire just outside the entrance for warmth and light as the desert night crept steadily closer. They had eaten before they left, so SJ picked at some dry fruit and fed Kibble a small amount of jerky. It felt strange how they had settled so quickly into this alien world. Kibble, curled on his blanket inside the hut, watching the shadows the small fire cast with his goggled eyes, sparks occasionally flickering along his jaw.
The hut floor had two old, tattered woven mats on it, and SJ settled onto one. Kibble moved to tuck in beside her, SJ pulling the cooling blanket over them both. Fas took first watch, sitting just outside the low doorway, his silhouette outlined against the firelight and the vast canopy of stars that sparkled in the clear sky.
They didn’t speak as darkness consumed the surrounding land, and an unearthly and eerie silence filled the night air. Only the occasional sound of a gust of wind caused the palm fronds and vegetation to rustle in protest. As the time ticked by, SJ’s eyes fluttered, her thoughts filtering back to the destroyed caravan and the beings they had discovered, and she eventually succumbed to the silence.
She awoke with a start to the sound of skittering and clicking. It was close. Too close. The fire outside had died to embers, casting the hut interior in deep shadow. Fas was still a silhouette in the doorway, but he was now tense, listening.
“What is it?” SJ whispered.
“Damn. It looks like we have guests,” Fas said.
Then she felt it—a sharp pinch on her ankle.
“Ow!” She jerked her leg away, scrambling back. Kibble woke with a startled squeak, sparks flaring brightly.
Fas was instantly alert. “Beetles!” he hissed, drawing his blade. “Sand-scarabs! Nasty little biters!”
“I noticed,” SJ said sarcastically.
The skittering intensified. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of dark shapes, each about the size of SJ’s palm, were pouring towards and into the hut through cracks in the walls. Their carapaces gleamed dully in her night vision. Their powerful mandibles clacked hungrily as they moved with unnerving speed, swarming towards them.
One launched itself at Fas. He batted it away with the flat of his blade, sending it crunching against the wall of a nearby hut. Another had scurried inside and latched onto SJ’s boot, its mandibles scraping against the leather. She kicked frantically, dislodging it, sending it flying back out of the hut as she stumbled to her feet. SJ called her claws to her hands, as another appeared and went to bite her boot. She reached down, skewering it, her boots protecting her from the beetle’s bite, wishing with all sincerity that she hadn’t. It made a popping sound, and a vile scent filled the enclosed space.
“Bah, what’s that smell?” SJ said, coughing.
“Not pleasant, is it?” Fas added as he flicked another beetle away with the flat of his blade.
“You could have warned me,” SJ said.
“I’m a little busy here,” Fas replied as he frantically fought off the beetles. “I’d use my poison, but with you and Kibble nearby, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Please, no. I’ve suffered its effects before, remember?” SJ said dryly.
Fas chuckled at the memory of his attempted assassination of her, how things had changed since their initial fateful meeting in the tower.
Kibble, however, transformed from startled wyvern to furious, sparking guardian. Seeing the insect swarm near SJ, he let out a high-pitched shriek of pure outrage. Blue-white lightning crackled violently across his entire head and neck, illuminating the hut in stark flashes.
ZZZZT! The sound reminded SJ of a bug zapper.
A jagged bolt of electricity, thin but intensely focused, lanced from his jaw. It struck a beetle crawling up SJ’s leg. The insect instantly fried, smoking and falling away, leaving the smell of ozone and burnt chitin. The bonus was that the shell remained intact, not releasing the foul inner contents of the beetles.
ZZZZT! Another bolt zapped a cluster near the doorway. Beetles froze mid-stride before violently shuddering and keeling over.
“Kibble! Get them!” SJ yelled, scrambling to her feet, trying not to stomp on the ones nearby, not wanting to add to the clawing stench of her mistaken slaying.
Kibble needed no further encouragement. He hopped off the mat, becoming a tiny, furious storm of lightning. He zipped around the confined space, targeting the swarming beetles with terrifying precision. ZZZZT! One climbing the wall. ZZZZT! Two converging on Fas’s leg. ZZZZT! A group tried to swarm the entrance. Kibble’s furious, high-pitched battle-squeaks accompanied each strike.
Fas used his blade to sweep clusters away from the hut. Meanwhile, SJ grabbed a palm frond they had used earlier to sweep the hut and started pushing and flicking them back towards the hut’s entrance. But it was Kibble who was the undisputed star. His small size and incredible agility let him target beetles that they couldn’t easily reach. The confined space amplified the effect of his lightning; the air hummed and crackled, filled with the sharp scent of ozone and the screeching of fried beetles.
Within minutes, the skittering onslaught slowed, then stopped. The hut floor was littered with dozens of small, smoking, twitching carcasses. Kibble landed on SJ’s shoulder, panting slightly, tiny sparks still dancing along his spine and jaw. He surveyed the carnage with obvious satisfaction, puffing out his chest. His goggles gleamed in the faint light from the embers outside.
“Wow, Kibble,” SJ breathed, stroking his head, careful to avoid the residual sparks. “You were incredible! A real beetle-slayer!”
Kibble preened, letting out a proud, chirping trill. He nudged her cheek with his snout, his earlier grumpiness over the goggles completely forgotten in the glow of victory and praise.
Fas chuckled. “Well, looks like the miniature wyvern earns his keep. Good job, Kibble. Saved us from a very itchy, painful night.” He kicked the last few stunned beetles out the door. “We’ll need to block those cracks better before we try sleeping again. But for now... I think the ‘Beetle Slayer’ deserves an extra piece of jerky.”
Kibble’s squeak was pure, triumphant agreement. As SJ dug out the promised treat, the lingering dread from the caravan wreck faded, replaced by a profound gratitude for her small, sparky companion and the ramshackle safety of the oasis hut. The desert night held many dangers, but they had faced one down, thanks to Kibble’s lightning fury.
SJ sat on the rug again.
“This journey is going to take forever, if we can only travel such short distances at a time,” SJ said as Fas now moved inside the hut.
“No. It will be easier tomorrow morning. If we set off just before first light, we should get about three hours before we need to take shelter. Looking at the map, there is another oasis that we can head towards and should make it before the sun is too high. We can then settle there for the day.”
“I know you mentioned not travelling at night time, but if a sandstorm had not long since passed by there, there can’t possibly be another one expected that soon?”
“It’s just not worth taking the chance. I know we could use our maps to backtrack if needed, but doing so would limit our maximum flight time. If we travel for four hours towards a distant location and then get caught out because of a storm and have to retreat, we may not make it back in time before the sun comes up. And remember, the lack of visibility at night could be a problem if a storm hits us. If we got blown off course with zero visibility, the maps wouldn’t update, and we could end up lost. The fog of war will only clear from known areas or specific locations. Never mind, also considering the potential inaccuracy of the maps. None of them will be perfect; if anything, they will be rough locations. It’s better to be cautious.”
SJ was not happy about sitting around waiting; she still wasn’t sure what good the gila beast would be, even if Kibble could persuade it. She was starting to get more frustrated by the entire circumstances they now found themselves in.
“This whole desert visit could be a complete waste of time and unnecessary danger,” SJ said.
“Yes, it may be,” Fas agreed.
“Then why did we not just stay and attack the troops in the valley? I’m sure we could have picked them off, eventually.”
“Eventually, maybe, but how long do you think it would take? As I mentioned, I may have been able to attack the gnolls, but I couldn’t attack the draconians or lizards. Are you skilled enough and competent enough to take them all out?”
SJ huffed. “If you had guided me, I may well be.”
“Have you ever heard of an assassin clearing an army?”
“No, but...”
“But nothing. After a few lucky strikes, you can guarantee they would adapt, and your chances of success would reduce dramatically each time.”
What Fas stated made sense, but it didn’t leave SJ feeling any happier. The desert region was a fascinating place due to its unique lifestyle, but the harsh reality of the environment was daunting. Eventually, SJ settled back down on the mat, her heroic companion curling up next to her, and his gentle breathing eventually sent her back to sleep.
