Chapter Five

Wilson was no longer a viable option. If anything, the village carried the ghost of her brother, every memory she had of him was felt with an unrelenting sadness that weened her off any prospect of delving deeper. For, if she were to frolic too long in the good times, she feared that would mark the end of it all, stewing relentlessly in self-pity and depression.

And besides, nothing had changed. Wilson was a wasteland, a testament to life’s disillusion; a gimcrack. From Katalene’s perspective, at least.

She’d rather wander the Whispey Deserts for all eternity than return home again. Or, at least until her own death.

Her body remained damp with blood and black-water only long enough for the sun to dry her. She stamped her feet down through the sands, or more accurately, her movement was more like a limped waddle about the barren, arid land.

The Whispey Deserts was a grave-yard. It had been livable at one time or another, domesticated or naturalized, long before Katalene was born. Her mother read stories about a society of magical beings, of unfathomable power and ability. Many of them. Those are for whom the tombs are made. But now, when one journeyed deep into the Deserts, it was not safe or livable. Only miles in, one could find the skeletal remnants of a failed adventurer, a bad omen of what awaited.

The Deserts had no set path, only hills of sand that, with a higher vantage-point, allowed one to bear witness to more sand.

Katalene brought the map out from a pocket of her leggings. The map was badly stained and wrinkled. She dropped to the sand on her bottom at the down-slope of a hill and unfolded the map, resting the spear by her side. The map once marked various areas Morgis regarded as “of interest,” but now, most of his ink had been blurred and made illegible. The only thing she could really distinguish was where the sand began and where it ended. To make it out of the Deserts, she’d need to travel East. It would lead back to civilization and nourishment. And then what? Katalene knew not. Survival was all her mind was thinking about. Maybe she’d join a troupe of thieves and live on the lamb. She knew not.

East for Life. Which way is East?

Uncle Morgis might have been a piece of shit, but Katalene paid attention to his stories about survival.

She folded up the map and returned to her feet, walking down the hill of sand, and stabbed the spear into the sand. The spear would cast a shadow behind it, Katalene took off her shoe and tossed it over the dark part of the sand. By Morgis’ words, the shadow went West. In some time, the shadow would realign, and where the shadow went, would direct her East. At least, that’s what Morgis said. Morgis also said arrows wouldn’t be fatal, so who knows when the son of a bitch tells the truth?

Katalene stepped away, climbing up the hill of sand. The thirst for water hadn’t peaked yet, but it certainly would in a matter of time. Plant life was scarce, and mostly, the only thing Katalene could remember ever seeing were cacti. “A common misconception about cactus is that they are your friend. They ARE NOT your friend. They’re your sworn enemy and drinking from them will be one of the last things you do.” Morgis then advised looking for cottonwoods or aspens. Insects might also be a sign for waterholes. But, in her time in the Deserts, Katalene had seen few insects and fewer plants.

She would have liked to stumble across a water-hole, or even to have tripped over the water jug Rooven had lost while evading the dragon creature. But none of that happened, instead, she paced amongst the sands until enough time had went by and then, started heading back.

Back up the hill, her eyes saw a blur out in the distance. The blur became closer and closer at a rampant pace, but it wasn’t until a few squinting moments that Katalene felt she could wager a guess of what she saw. A sand ray skidded across the deserts, sliding about like how a snake slithered. A flat creature, a lot like a snake in appearance as well, but with large wings on each side, a black exterior.

On top of it, a group of men. Each indistinguishable in their appearance, wearing white or gray robes with hoods obscuring most of their face. Katalene stared at them with earnest enthusiasm, but that quivered with a second thought. The men took sight of her, an easy feat, considering where she stood, and the sand ray began toward her. The creature had reins to steer it with.

Katalene hurriedly went down the hill of sand, too fast, she fell at first, bringing a small amount of sand down with her. She brushed it off and returned to her feet, bringing her spear out from the ground.

The men neared closer. Four of them. Each with scabbards at their waist, equipped with swords. The idea of friendlies seemed like an impossible thought for her to fathom. Nothing in these Deserts was helpful in any way, shape, or form.

The sand ray arrived to her, behind it, Katalene could see black, square boxes chained behind it. They punctured holes into the creature’s flesh and shackled on the boxes, or at least, that’s what she gathered from a first look. The boxes were long, four of them hooked onto the creature.

“You look a little lost!” One of the men said, waving his arm around. Alone, he stepped off from the sand ray and walked toward Katalene. “You’re in luck, we’re just heading back to greener pastures!”

Katalene tightened her grip around the spear and raised it in-front of her chest. The man noticed and backed away.

“Aha!” He said, removing the hood from over his head. “Heat must have taken its toll.”

“Who are you?” Katalene asked, she didn’t recognize her own voice. It sounded dry and raspy, it had felt like an eternity since she needed to speak.

“I’d say we’re your saviors,” the man replied. The man had light skin, or at least, whiter than what you’d expect from someone this deep in the deserts. A thick, red beard over his face and bright green eyes. Katalene wasn’t comforted, and the man could tell, “Look, we transport goods from one side of the desert to the other.” The man pointed at the boxes, “We take those crates and bring them from Maharris’ Trade Network back to Tuncid.”

Katalene relented. “How far is Tuncid from here?”

“If you intend on walkin’ then you’ll be walkin’ til well after sundown.” He flashed a smile and looked back at the men on the sand ray.

“She coming or what!? We have to get back to Tuncid!” One of the men yelled out.

The man closest to Katalene looked to him, waved, and turned back to Kat, smiling, “Look, my name’s Shear, and me, those guys back there, we’re all nice fellas who’d be more than happy to escort you to Tuncid.” His teeth matched the yellowish texture of the sand, with spots of black between the gaps.

Katalene looked down at the hole in the sand where her spear was stabbed. It wasn’t like she had much to lose with either option. If they were malicious, there was nothing stopping them from outnumbering her, but, if they weren’t, the transport to Tuncid could save her life.

She nodded at Sheer, who graciously led her toward the sand ray.

2

The sand ray skidded fast across the sands, sending small grains flying about around it. Seated, Katalene cradled the spear in her hands, it rested on her lap. No attempt at conversation on her part, the men all did, however, nod and welcome her, their faces remained covered by their scarves. Aside from Shear.

“What brings you out here, uh, I didn’t catch your name,” Shear asked, himself seated down comfortably, looking out at the sand whisking away from the sand ray as it slid across the land. Shear looked over at her when he finished his dialogue, a grin showed those urine-y yellows.

“Kat,” Katalene mumbled quietly, not fully making eye-contact with the man. She had half a mind to tell him he didn’t catch her name because she hadn’t given it, but the other half of her mind thought better of it.

“And Kat, what brings you out here in the Whispey Deserts, so far away from civilization?”

“I went for a walk,” Katalene answered back.

“That’s one hell of a walk, my friend,” Shear said with a soft chuckle.

An understatement by all definitions of the word, Katalene and Rooven had been walking for hours and hours throughout the sand, they would’ve killed over twice hadn’t they brought supplies with them. A walk, it was not.

“I can imagine reasons why you might have went out to the deserts. Most that venture this far have a death wish. Back in the olden times, in more barbaric days, that is, sometime between when the deserts were inhabitable and now, those who were exiled out of Tuncid were banished to the deserts as a death sentence, can you believe that?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, nothing but sand out here.” Katalene replied, watching the sand around them spray about, the visual was like being in the middle of a sand storm.

“Sand for a very long time, no doubt. At least a month’s worth of walking until anyone would make it to Maharris. That is where we’re from. A small part outside the cities, in the wilderness,” Sheer spoke, until stopping, as if he was expecting Katalene to venture on, asking about Maharris or something of the sort. Katalene asked nothing, and so, he continued: “The banished would walk for days and days until finally their legs gave out, none of them expected they’d live. Everyone knew there was no surviving in the Whispey Deserts, not without clothes and without resources. It’d be wonderful if the human body could go out like a flame on the soul’s command, wouldn’t it? People who were banished would simply drop and end, but it doesn’t work like that, does it? Knowing you will most certainly die and simply allowing it are two very different things. That’s why the banished walk for hours in the blistering sun, trying to find anything at all that will help alleviate their suffering, it’s too difficult to just kill-over and die.”

“It’s too much power for a human-being to be given.” Katalene replied, looking over to Sheer and the scarf-wearing men. “If you could just off yourself whenever you wanted, with no pain or agony, you’d be more willing to do it after every setback. Religious folk would off themselves to fast-track their way to the after-life.”

“Is fast-tracking your way to the after-life such a foolish endeavor?”

“My father always told me you had to make a contribution and earn passage into heaven. That, if you died from illness, he believed that was a merciful lord saying he was ready for you.”

“And what do you believe?” Sheer asked.

“I believe we comfort ourselves by pretending we’re not under the visage of a child tinkering with his play things.”

“Play things,” Sheer repeated, “So, what really brings you to the desert, doll?”

“I was in search of something, I didn’t find it.” Katalene answered.

“You traveled alone?”

Katalene shook her head. “I traveled with my brother,” she stopped for a second, as if the realization of her brother’s demise was hitting her again for the first time.

“All of us were in search of something to,” one of the scarfed men announced, walking over to Katalene and putting his foot down on the wooden spear. “And, we found it.”

Katalene stared up at him confusedly, trying her best to pry her spear up from under his boot.

Shear laughed, “You see those out-there, doll?” He asked, pointing out toward the casket-like crates the sand ray dragged on behind them. “Call it God’s toy box.”

Before Katalene could fully comprehend her situation, she felt herself punted by Shear, after he sprung to his feet. Falling forward harshly, the situation went from bad to worse when she found herself flung off from the sand ray, which remained in full motion. The back of her head crashed into the sand and she felt herself rolling off and about for a times, until slamming down for the final impact. The wind was knocked out of her, her ribs felt as though they had successfully been pried out from her chest, but she realized she needed to return to her feet. Her survival was dependent on it. Though, part of her only vaguely understood her predicament, it all having happened so fast.

From a distance, she heard the sand ray skidding its way toward her, off the command of the men, who yelled frivolously, shouting battle cries in unison.

Katalene climbed to her knees, her head felt like an anchor that wanted to sink to the bottom of the ocean floor, but she fought it, lifted it dizzily, her body carried itself like a puppet on strings, barely functioning as she returned to her feet. The men arrived near her as blurry faces and shaky, nondescript figures, Katalene knew she wouldn’t able to offer a fight to them. Her death in the situation was inevitable, but she also knew that she was unwilling to give up without a fight, instead, she’d die trying to prevent the inevitable.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to flee from them either, and instead, she made a directionless lunge in their direction, throwing her fist with little force behind it. The attack missed, and she felt her shoulder grabbed by one of them. Off reflex, and off desperation, she threw the back of arm out at him, and with that, the unknown compartment on the gauntlet was no longer unknown. A long blade left from out the secret compartment and stabbed into the neck of one of the men, pouring the blood out in a quick, but abundant fashion, cutting easily through the man’s scarf.

Katalene was surprised by the occurrence, as were the other men, one of them removed their scarf and reacted: “You cunt!”

The slur gave Katalene a small sense of satisfaction, knowing she’d at least die knowing that she took one of them out. And, like that, the men drew their swords from out their scabbards, pointing them at her neck. All of them except for Sheer, who drove a forearm to her face. Katalene fell from the attack, feeling the blood fill her mouth, a tooth was most certainly knocked out by that strike.

“Not the face,” one of the men instructed, this man was older, about middle-age, and it was shown in the deep, raspiness of his voice. “She isn’t worth shit if her face is ruined.”

Sheer stared down at Katalene with a look that didn’t suggest deep-rooted anger, but something different, disappointment? Sheer turned his back from Katalene and walked back toward the sand ray, searching through some of the crates, until, at last, he brought a large, old rope out, carrying it over his shoulder, shaking his head and slurring some words from beneath his breath.

A couple of the men tended to their fallen brethren, who no longer fought and twitched. One man had tried to use his scarf to stop the blood flow, but the cut proved too deep for such advances to prove effective. The man with the slit throat was dead, and the men who once felt all powerful looked on with a sense of anger and frustration. Katalene enjoyed seeing this more than the latter, but knew that it would only bring consequence to her detriment.

“I’ll give you one better than banishment, like a child, I’ll leave you with nothing but time to think about what you did.” Sheer hollered out, and then, he flung the rope off from himself and onto her.

He stepped onto the gauntlet’s blade and grabbed at her other arm, pulling on it like he expected to yank the gauntlet off from her arm. In truth, the result seemed more likely to be him dislocating her limbs. Soon, he relented, and dropped to his knees, messing with her arm, looking for some sort of strap or hidden switch that would allow for the gauntlet’s removal. He found nothing, and, in the end, gave up, instead, forcing the gauntlet’s blade to retract back into position.

Sheer took the rope and bound her arms and legs together, hogtying her in such a way that made maneuverability limited. Katalene provided him no fight in-response to this. After all, it wasn’t as if she was in any condition to prevent it. Her ribs had been broken, her mouth was busted open, and she might very well have been on the receiving end of a concussion. Katalene didn’t have it in her to do much of anything, and instead, let it happen. Sheer adjusted her to his heart’s content, making himself certain she wouldn’t be able to squirm free or make use of the retractable blade in the gauntlet. He rose back up to his feet, pleased with himself, he moved into Katalene’s line of sight and offered a manic smile, “You’ll be with your brother shortly.”

Sheer bowed his head and, with that, alongside the rest of the men, walked back to the sand ray. Some of the men weren’t content with that, displaying their angers at her, spitting on her or walking on the back of her head as they passed.

And, at that moment, like so many others, Katalene buried her head in the sand, hiding herself from the truth staring back at her, it was more convenient.

3

“Katalene …. ?” A voice called out, a soft whisper, barely audible, barely heard by her. She ignored it, thinking it a trick of the mind, until it called out again, this time, a little louder than that, “Katalene?” The young Katalene turned her head, and met eyes with Mother Jane. “Who are you talking to, Katalene?”

“Sol.” Katalene answered at once, nodding her head with a wide smile spread across her face from ear-to-ear. “He’s the friend of mine that comes when Rooven leaves.”

“You miss your brother a lot, don’t you?” Mother Jane asked, a tender smile on her face that showed the warmly felt affection she had. Jane’s home-remedied perfume was of cinnamon and something fainter, a citrus-y aroma that complimented it well.

Kat smiled at her mother, twirling her long brown hair between her fingers, “Do you miss daddy?”

“Of course, I miss your father, Kat. Your brother too, but they’ll both be back from their trip in a few short moments.” Mother Jane nodded her head, then, pivoted herself when she heard the front-door of their abode being flung open behind them. She winced, the expression on her face carrying a trifle of annoyance that left almost as soon as it came. “How many times do I have to tell you not to do that, Aris!”

“Sorry,” Aris answered back, a half-heart apology that Mother Jane accepted. He was lucky Father Ark wasn’t here, however, as he would not have.

Aris Syi was an especially darker skinned child that migrated somewhere out from Tuncid, he was one of the more rambunctious children that Mother Jane looked after.

“How come I can’t come with Father on these trips, how come Roo’s allowed to go?”

“Your father feels you’re more suited elsewhere, and besides, you don’t want to follow them to Jerleak. Hardly like they’re going sightseeing, my child, just making certain the next shipment of foods goes smoothly. Nothing exciting about that, now, is there?”

“Roo says I don’t get to go because I’m a girl and girls have to watch the children and do the cooking!” Katalene hollered out indignantly, feigning that she was about to vomit.

“And what’s so bad about that?” Mother Jane asked, sounding neither insulted nor assuring to her daughter.

“There’s no fun in that! I want to see the world, climb mountains, explore caves, and slay cyclops’!” Katalene shouted, winking with one-eye in her best imitation of a cyclops.

“I doubt you’ll find very many cyclops’ outside the history books, dearest.” Mother Jane confessed, then, before Katalene had time to pout, she added: “But, there are certainly adventurous things you can do.”

“Like what?” Katalene inquired, curiosity peaked.

Mother Jane kept Katalene’s gaze only an instant longer before looking to yell at Aris, who was, at this moment, using the swing that hung from the tree while standing up, gathering great height while doing so. “Oh, so help me, if you fall from that swing, I will tan your hide!” She hollered out, meanwhile, Aris simply smiled a large grin, proud of himself for his rebellion.

Mother Janes’ threats were mostly empty ones, to be frank, she couldn’t hurt even the most villainous of creatures, that’s what Katalene had always gathered. She was a very passive and compassionate soul that only looked to make certain everyone else was happy before herself. When the children she babysat caught wind of this, they took advantage of her kindness and acted freely upon each one of their impulses. Not Rooven or Katalene though, because they knew they’d have to answer to Father Ark if they ever took it too far.

Katalene gave a sinister grin to Sol, who had remained quiet during the entire conversation between Mother Jane and her. Sol was very respectful, never butting into conversations, which was for the best, as nobody else except Kat could hear him.

“What do you want to do now?” Sol asked, a grin on his face in-return. Sol had unkempt dark-hair and the kind-of face that just screamed being a smart-ass. He wasn’t though, a smart ass, that is. It was one of the few things that Rooven and Sol didn’t have in-common. Sol didn’t argue or provide dispute, only obliged to whatever childish whim Katalene thought up for them.

“Let’s see if Auntie Pearl has any candies to spare!” She replied, taking a final look at her mother who, at last, managed to pry the young child off from the swing set.