Chapter One: The Plainsfolk
Shasa paused, waiting for something, anything, to make a move. All he needed was a noise, something to mask his advance. He clutched his rifle more tightly, crouching slightly lower to the ground. A small draft blew through his long, black hair, shaking the leaves of the greenery around him. He made his move then, taking twelve quick steps across the hard, green oasis soil. Then, the breeze stopped, and with it, he.
Ah, but success! He could see the beast. He slid forward slightly, taking a soft knee and bringing the black powder rifle to his shoulder. The scaly hide of the reptilian Gorra melded perfectly with the trees and shrubs surrounding him, but Shasa's keen eyes missed little. He let out a deep breath, fixing the sight onto the back of the creature.
Then, without a second thought or hesitation, he fired. Birds exploded from the tree tops, forming a black cloud over the stars. The Gorra leapt for the trees, but was to slow. The musket ball smashed into the thing's hind leg, sending it toppling to the ground. Shasa bounded forward, no longer worrying about stealth. Drawing his knife quickly, he jumped. The Gorra stood, scrambling away and calling out sounds of warning to any of its brothers.
It would only be a matter of time, and Shasa knew it, sprinting after the wounded beast. After he hopped over a fallen log gaining ground as more and more obstacles stood in the Gorra's way. Then, finally, it collapsed. He dove on it, casting his rifle aside and pressing down with his right hand, while driving the dagger into its neck with his left. He twisted and twisted, pushing harder until the creature ceased all movement.
Another good kill; so much could come from a single beast. He would craft new gloves from the hide, for dealing with the thorny plants. From the teeth he would fashion throwing daggers, the bones new spears. And of course, the head of a beast so large would frighten most assailants.
He smiled, standing and examining the corpse. He crouched down again, satisfied, and reached into his pack for a rope. Retrieving it, he tied it around the Gorra's enormous canines. He took the rifle from the ground, and then set off, dragging the beast behind him. It slowed him, but not much. And soon, he was out of the cover of the oasis and out in the hot desert sun.
The camp was just ahead, spread out around the oasis' pool. Small, quickly set-up shacks dotted the sandy banks, and several other Tau sat around a quietly burning fire. One looked up, grinning at the sight of Shasa. He stood, quickly approaching Shasa.
"Ah, the great hunter returns! What does he bring as his catch?" the Tau, Vak'ran, asked in a kind voice. He leaned around Shasa. "A mighty Gorra! Surely this deed shall be recorded by the orators!"
"Very funny, Eagle-eye," Shasa said, smiling slightly. His friend shrugged.
"Join us around the fire. Ta'rhan is just beginning another wild tale from his 'adventures…'," Eagle-eye said with a chuckle. Even if it had been the truth, and his deeds had been recorded, the local orator, Ta'rhan was anything but respect. Surely, he was liked, but not respected.
Shasa joined them, squatting by the fire and warming himself. Night would descend soon, and he would need all the warmth he could get. There was silence for a moment as they all stared into the dancing fire, listening to the embers crackle.
"We will break the desert soon," Ta'rhan said from across the flames.
"That's what you said three moons ago," B'kan complained. The group all began to mumble inaudibly.
"No matter, for now I shall begin my story," the orator said, raising his arms. He paused; creating dramatic effect, then went on in his most ominous voice. "Back in the time of the ancients, when T'au'Kan still roamed these lands, there was a young plainsboy who aspired to become the Great Hero. The people of his tribe called him Chai'ran, the Ambitious One. He trained himself for many years, and sought out the great swords masters of the land. So, one day, he decided that he was ready for war. He set out then, taking the bravest of his kin to battle the rival tribe, the Ha'kani, the Heartless."
The fire spurted up a great flame, and an ember skipped from the inferno and to Shasa's feet. He watched the thing burn away, listening intently. The story had somehow mesmerized him.
"Seven moons later, Chai'ran returned…alone," Ta'rhan said in a low and cold voice. "He did not speak of the battle or what came to pass in the village of the Heartless, but his tribes people could tell that he was changed. Then, he committed the great atrocity: he renounced war. Retreating to the mountains, he was chased by the men of his tribe until they could chase no more. The last man to see him watched him disappear into a small cave. Then, moments later, he stood atop the peak, staring down at them like a hawk to its pray. No one has seen him since. The Ambitious One remains a mystery to this day, but some say that, if you listen, you can hear his frightful cries of anguish in the night as he weeps for his fallen comrades.
All was quiet. The wind blew softly, making the fire gyrate quickly. A small howl grew louder as the winds increased in speed. Sand blew up all around them, forming massive clouds of fog-like dust that invaded eyes, mouths, ears, and skin. Shasa stood in an instant, just before Eagle-eye.
"To the huts! It's a storm!" Eagle-eye cried. Even if the chief had not spoken, they all knew what to do. At once, the tribesmen scattered and rushed to their huts, slamming the animal-skin flaps down and sealing them with strings.
Shasa moved to the end of his hut, taking his fire-stones from the ground and smashing them together. Light erupted on the sandy earth below. B'kan stood there beside him, frowning. Shasa nodded to him and laid down on his small sheet.
A soft cry drifted into his ears. It grew slowly louder, like a weeping Tau. Suddenly, it grew to a wail. It was not the wind, nor the sand. It came from inside.
"Did you hear that?" Shasa asked.
"What?" asked B'kan.