Heat. Warming, comforting, searing, killing heat. Through closed eyes, he could feel the sun beating down. It pierced his eyelids to invade his fitful sleep. He was too weakened to cover his face or even turn away. Indeed, he was too weak to even look around or call for help. Javed felt as if he were already dead. Which was just an inevitability. The desert did not show mercy.
He tried to think back, but he could only remember bits and pieces. The initial charge, the warkite, Ester, a sandstorm... Yet something was missing. It lingered at the edges of his mind, conspicuous in its absence. When he probed further...pain. And he wasn't in a hurry to add to the coming pain his numb body foretold.
The sun filtering through his eyelids almost served as a second sight. Slow moving patches of shadow signified clouds. Nothing enough to provide shelter from the realities of the desert, though. If he had the strength, he might burrow into the sand for shelter, and wait until nightfall. He might harvest moisture and even his own sweat to stay hydrated. And he would definitely try to signal one of dragons that would come looking for them.
He would do these things...but in his current state he couldn't. And unless something changed soon, he would fade away and die. The desert could kill a strong man in hours. And he was not that right now.
Javed faced the end, and waited.
Javed started awake. The fact that he even could was a surprise. He squinted cautiously at the feel of...shade? He looked up from where he lay on the ground to discover that he was in a grove of trees, protected from the harsh sun. An oasis! Could it be a mirage? But a mirage couldn't maintain itself at this distance. It couldn't actually shade you from the sun. Even the ground was not sand, but soil.
It felt wonderful. Yet his lips were still parched and his body aflame with thirst. He let his head fall to the side, to take in his surroundings. As he did, he saw it. A small pool of water. Javed's eyes dilated at the sight. His universe shrank to the size of that pool. He knew, even in the shade, that he must have water, soon, or die.
He felt a surge of adrenaline fighting against his weariness. His tired body wanted nothing more than to lay where he was. Yet he knew that if he did, he would loose strength until it was impossible for him to move. He had to act, now!
He rolled onto his side, facing the pool. Pause. Then once more, onto his stomach. Deep breath. He tensed and gathered his body together. Wedging his legs and feet against the ground, he pushed his upper body forward. He focused on keeping his body tight and letting it slide over the soil. When he had fully stretched out, he dug his hands into the dirt. Then he gathered his body again, this time keeping his hands and arms firm against the ground, and letting his legs slide behind him.
It was unintuitive and draining, but Javed knew it allowed him to conserve the most energy in his weakened state. The alternative was flailing about, or trying to get to his feet. Javed didn't want to waste energy trying to stand when he didn't even know if he could in his current state.
He crawled for an eternity. His aching muscles protested every movement. To his fevered eyes, the water seemed no closer after each lunge. Unwanted thoughts crept into his mind, that he'd be dead before he got to the water's edge, that the water could be bad and finish him off, that this was all a dream and he was still cooking out in the sun. He let those thoughts pass through and out, focusing on repeating his awkward crawl.
Once more, once more, once more. I might be doing this forever, he thought. That idea didn't bother him as much as it should. He had set his mind on this course of action, knowing it was his best chance. Now he just had to keep on. Once more...once more...once more...
When his hand splashed into the pool, it took Javed a moment of dumb contemplation to realize he had done it. By this point, he was too tired to even celebrate. He cupped his trembling hand and brought it to his mouth. The water seeped through his fingers and trickled down his arm, but he didn't care. He just needed moisture.
Javed rubbed his wet fingers over his parched lips. It felt like heaven. The cool water was instantly absorbed into his skin. He dipped his hand again, this time washing the rest of his face. Javed had purposefully avoided drinking any water yet. He needed to prepare his dehydrated body, and avoid succumbing to water madness. Too much water could kill you just as surely as too little.
Once he had cooled his face, and felt a bit more human, he decided to take his first drink. Javed reached out again, dipping his hand. This time when he brought the water back, it felt like a solemn ritual. His eyes focused on the water. Bringing it to his lips, and restraining himself, he took a sip.
Even with all his mental preparation, he almost lost control. That first taste of cool water pierced him to the very soul. He had to remove his hand, so that he wouldn't mindlessly gulp the water down. His eyes subconsciously darted to the pool, and his body trembled as if he would leap into the waters and roll about like a beast.
No.
Once the feeling passed, he brought his hand back to his lips. He sipped the water down, and then sucked on his fingers. Javed took a moment to dwell on the pleasure he had just experienced, then reached out his hand again. Once again, and once again. Each time just as deliberate as the first. He focused on the sensation in his belly, and when he felt the slightest bit full, he pulled back his hand and forced himself to stop. He had witnessed the tragic cases of survivors who drank themselves to death after surviving the harsh desert.
Now that he was done, he crawled a few feet away from the water's edge, and fell back into slumber.
The second time he awoke was much more pleasant. He knew where he was, and he wasn't on the brink of death. He decided to try getting to his feet, using one of the trees for leverage. Though he wobbled a bit, he managed to keep his feet.
Javed's entire body was aching and weary, but at least he felt human. He went back to the water's edge, and squatted down to get a drink. Despite the water he had drank before, it still felt like he was filling up a bottomless pit. His body had put every ounce of water to work. He still made sure not to drink too much. Life in the desert did not last long if you lacked discipline.
Straightening up, Javed surveyed his surroundings. He was in a grove of trees, surrounding a natural spring. The fresh water bubbled up from some fortuitous source. Many questions pressed upon his mind. How had he arrived here? He had been in no condition to travel, and even if he had, he wouldn't have known how to get here. Did someone carry him? If so, who, and where were they now?
Javed longed to strip off his armor. It weighed him down, and he longed to feel the cool oasis breeze on his skin. There was even dirt in his armor, from all the crawling around he had been doing. But the thought of some stranger lurking about gave him pause. If there was someone, they had helped him. That did not automatically make them trustworthy.
Yet as he scanned the small grove, Javed could sense no one. He peered out into the desert, which even now seemed like a certain doom that he had only narrowly escaped. He could see no signs of life for as far as he could see. Javed sighed pensively. Then he gladly shucked off his breastplate.
He arranged his armor carefully at the base of a tree. A Dromoka warrior never took their armor for granted. The success of their clan was based in endurance. To endure in battle required the necessary protection. Those warriors who attained the rank of Foremost were even given the honor of receiving some discarded scales from their revered scalelords, to use as armor. Javed was just a lowly scaleguard, but he had seen such armor before, worn by Foremost on leave from the borders. The common scaleguard armor was fashioned in its likeness, with metal worked to resemble dragon scale.
With that weight off his shoulders, Javed almost felt comfortable. With protection from the sun, and the water here, he knew he could survive. These trees didn't look like they bore fruit, but that was of far lesser importance. He could live here for days, maybe weeks. But he needed to get home. He had to report on the attack, as well as report back for duty.
As Javed's thoughts went back to the battle, a searing flash burned his mind. He quickly retreated from the pain, and instead preoccupied himself with the parts that he could remember. The shouts, the clangs of metal against metal. He could remember, as though in a dream, the fear and confusion. He remembered the awful Kolaghan dragon, and Katar, his honored scalelord, battling it. Here the heat grew in his mind again, but he sidled away from it.
He remembered Ester being hit by the lightning. She was dying. Then not dying. She had been saved. How? By the golden light. Sun magic, like the magic used by Dromoka mages. But without a caster. And the sandstorm, reminiscent of powerful sand magics, often used by the Dromoka to conceal their movements or to blind their enemies. Sand storms were an ever present danger of the wastes, but Javed couldn't believe that one of that size and intensity could have struck with no warning. The Dromoka lived in the desert, and in order to survive, they studied it inside and out.
So more magic, and once more without a caster. Javed wanted to believe that he was a fool, that he had been imagining things. Perhaps Katar had summoned sun and sand mages when she had arrived to warn them. But something about that felt off. If Katar had arrived with reinforcements, the majority would have been scaleguards. Yet Javed had seen none.
"Ugh, I'm getting nowhere with this," he sighed. Never let what you don't know, overrule what you do know, he reminded himself. Once the storm had arisen, he had left Ester, breathing...A flash of pain. "Ugh," but he refused to give up. He circled this painful memory. I will wear you down, he thought. Gingerly poking and prodding at the memory, he avoided the worst of it, and was able to continue.
He had been going to help his scalelord. Even just as a distraction. Instead...another flash. He grit his teeth. I felt the light, and strength flowed into me. Classic sun magic, empowering and healing his wounds. And he...had been led. He remembered now! That feeling of guidance, like nothing he had known before. It had led him through the whirling sands...onward...onward...
The pain was consistent now, a dull roar, but he pushed past it. He had to know! He couldn't abide this blocked memory! A small part of him wondered if he should really want to know. Maybe this is a warning-but he pushed past that thought as well. Whatever it was, better to know and deal with the fallout.
He had been led...and came upon the two dragons, locked in combat. The dull pain receded completely, leaving a hollow vacuum in its place. His ears were ringing. He remembered seeing Katar fall. Then the sand returned. He leapt, he was guided, he would not fail!
And just as it had then, Javed's heart skipped a beat when he remembered what he had done. His breath caught in his lungs, and came in shallows gasps. He staggered and threw his arms around a nearby tree to keep from falling. The sight of Katar, his scalelord, the one who he had...who everyone in his aerie had...devoted their lives to...dead. And at his hand.
"No. Nooooo. NoooOOO-AAAAGGGGGHHHHH!" Javed screamed. It couldn't be, this had to be a dream. The enormity stared him in the face. Violence against a clan member was the greatest crime in their laws. Yet that paled in comparison to what he had done. Excuses and reasons once again flowed through his mind, trying to justify, trying to allow him to come to grips with what he had done. But he refused to consider them.
Was this his divine punishment? To be outcast? No. It couldn't be. If he was a true son of the clan Dromoka- and nothing that had happened would change that- then his duty was clear. Find a way to return to civilization, and turn himself in. The scalelords, and most likely Dragonlord Dromoka, would hear his case, and then administer judgment. Javed could only hope that his penitence would show, by accepting his rightful death.
Now that he had made peace with his fate, he was able to hear his mind reasoning, that perhaps there would be leniency, taking into account the circumstances. It didn't bring him joy, to consider getting off on technicalities, but he needed something to hold onto right now. Something to give him hope. He hadn't wanted to kill his scalelord! They had to see that! But even if they didn't, he would accept their verdict. In this way, he would be justified, and at one with his clan, even if it were only in death.
Well, no use wasting time, Javed thought. He pushed off the tree where he had leaned, and began to gather sticks to start a signal fire. Then Javed heard a sound that gave him pause. He could have almost thought it to be the wind, if it weren't for the feeling of omen that pierced him to the bones. He listened intently for it to sound again.
...Javed...
Chills ran down his spine. His name? Who out here could be calling for him? Was it a search party, already on the lookout for him, their calls carrying from a distance? Javed strained his ears, holding himself as still as possible. He tried to ignore the sounds of his breath, and the blood pounding in his ears. He tried to filter out every sound except for the strange sound, the one he sought...
"Javed!" the figure who spoke stepped out of nowhere right in front of him.
"Ahhh!" Javed cried as he jolted backwards, falling flat on his back.
The figure laughed in spite of itself. Javed could see now that it was a young woman, clad in armor, like a Dromoka warrior. Friend, he thought. Yet there was something off about her. For starters, he could clearly make out the trees on the other side of her!
"Who-" what "are you?" he stammered. He noticed that she was standing in the air, a few feet off the ground. Well, that narrowed things down a bit. He expected to feel afraid, but for some reason, his fight or flight responses had not kicked in yet.
The woman -spirit- smiled reassuringly. "Do not be afraid. I am a friend of the Dromoka Clan." Javed let out the breath he had been holding. Well, that was a comforting start. And yet the situation was so far outside of his experience that he could not make heads or tails of it. She continued, "My name is Anafenza, and in life I was one of your peers."
"Anafenza? In life? Wha-? How? Uhh...?" Javed's mind was chugging slowly under the weight of so much new information. The Dromoka Clan did have its stories of ghosts and evil spirits. Javed had often wondered about such things. But he had never experienced anything like this. Everything he had been told said that spirits were ominous and capricious, dangerous and unreliable. As such, those who chose to deal with and call on such were put to death.
Yet he could feel nothing untoward about this spirit. Her face held a comforting expression. Javed supposed that at any moment it could be replaced by a ravening maw, but in the meantime, he could only go by his senses and gut, and both were calm. Besides, the best way to avoid trouble was to be polite. If that didn't work, go for the sword. If that didn't work, and he supposed it might not work on a spirit, then run.
The spirit laughed again, watching his brain process. "I know this must be new for you. It's ok, take your time." She hadn't moved from her initial position, and a small part of his mind noticed and appreciated it. He had enough on his mind with the existence of a spirit. He didn't need to deal with a MOVING existing spirit.
"Ok...uh, Forgive me, oh spirit," Javed began.
The spirit laughed again. "Oh my, ha ha, how formal!" She smiled, and Javed was entranced. "I guess this is why it's easier to work behind the scenes." She held her hand, palm up, in a placating gesture. "You can just call me Anafenza. It's why I told you my name to begin with."
"Ah!" Javed bowed low from the waist. He had inadvertently put the his visitor out. "I'm sorry, Anafenza, I will do better!" He clipped the words out like a roll call. His cheeks flashed in shame, but he was determined to come off well to this spirit. He had done enough wrong today. He didn't want to anger some Dromokan spirit. Even though a part of his mind was still wondering where this Dromokan spirit had come from, as the clan didn't revere or tolerate spirits of any kind.
The spirit called Anafenza quirked an eyebrow at his response. "I guess...that's a start. Javed," she continued, her voice never wavering from a calm and comforting tone, "I am not here to hurt you. I am not here to judge you. I am here to help you." She smiled again. "Indeed, I already have. You just don't know it was me."
Javed's mouth gaped, and his eyes opened wide. Her words, it had to mean...the magics that had helped him in the battle...had been...her?
Anafenza resisted to urge to giggle at the truth dawning on Javed's face. "That's right Javed. You needed me, and I came to your aid. Do not fear me. I am on your side."
Javed had so many questions. He felt a supreme aura of love and acceptance, but something niggled at him. "Wait, you guided me, yet...I killed my scalelord!" His look of awe was replaced by one of horror. He dropped his gaze in shame, missing the disappearance of Anafenza's smile, replaced by slight annoyance.
Now, with someone to talk to, Javed felt he could unburden his feelings of guilt. Perhaps this spirit of his clan could tell him how to pay penance.
"Javed...so what?"
He gaped. The spirit Anafenza didn't seem to be grasping the enormity of the situation. "Anafenza, I killed my scalelord! I! A human! Killed my scalelord! One of our rulers!"
Anafenza scoffed. "Javed, it was the only way to save everyone. If you hadn't acted then, that warkite would've killed you, and then killed every one of your fellow soldiers. Including that one you were trying to save. If the situations were reversed, your scalelord wouldn't have hesitated to roast you for the good of the tribe."
"As it should be!" Javed yelled. He didn't care anymore if he offended this spirit. She was treading dangerously close to treason, if she hadn't already walked over that line. Javed could understand the technical aspects of her argument, but it presupposed that human lives were equal to dragon lives, which they very obviously weren't!
Anafenza sighed. "Javed, look, I know you feel bad about what happened. I shouldn't have been so cavalier about it." Javed harrumphed. "I know you didn't want to kill your scalelord. You," she hesitated, "are a loyal soldier of your clan."
Javed sighed. His face went from defensiveness to forlorn. "I guess. I'm sorry too, for being cross. I just...when I found out what had happened, I wished it had been me who died instead of my scalelord."
"Wow, Javed," Anafenza replied. "I mean, I get it, but Javed..." Javed looked up at her questioningly. "Javed, you have worth and value as an individual."
"I know I have value, to the clan," Javed began. But Anafenza cut him off.
"Not to the clan. Or rather, not just to the clan." Javed gave her another quizzical look. Anafenza sighed. "Maybe it would be better if I started at the beginning. Over a thousand years ago, the Dromoka clan did not exist. These sands were inhabited by another clan. The Abzan. This clan lived here in peace. But then the Dromoka dragons attacked. They overthrew the Abzan, and ruthlessly eliminated their history and identity. The survivors were assimilated into what would come to be known as the Dromoka Clan. Humans serving under dragons."
Javed didn't look impressed. "Isn't that what happens though? One clan conquers another? And you say this happened over a thousand years ago. All I've ever known is the Dromoka, and you expect me to feel sympathy for some ancient, unknown clan of humans, who for all I know, may have been complete monsters?"
Anafenza set her expression in response. "I didn't expect you to care right off the bat," although her annoyance betrayed that sentiment. "I just wanted to lay out how things are."
"And you, are you from back then too?" Javed demanded.
Anafenza narrowed her eyes. "Does this armor look familiar?" she demanded. It was indeed the modern style of Dromoka armor. It looked similar to his own, except where his was made of metal shaped to look like dragon scales, hers looked like the real deal!
"You were...a Foremost?" he whispered. She paused, then nodded.
"I died two years ago."
Javed cringed. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I gave my life for what I believed in. Just like any of my brothers and sisters would." She looked pensive for a moment, and then moved on. "My only regret, is that there are things I can't do in this state. That's why I've come to you."
"Me?" Javed questioned. "But why me? I've done nothing special. In the battle, you helped me so much!"
"Javed," Anafenza looked him in the eyes, "You have been chosen for a reason. You are a loyal servant, and you are willing to sacrifice for the greater good. There's more too. Our mission will fail without those qualities."
"Our mission? What is-"
"In time, Javed," she assured him. "Our time here is limited. Even now, a search party is headed in this direction."
"But how-" he cut himself off. She smiled at him. Of course. "You've given me a lot of new information, Anafenza."
"I know. And I'm sorry to dump it all on you like this," she admitted. "The good news is that you have time to think about this. You don't have to decide right now. But do think about it. I will find you when the time is right."
Javed smirked. "So you're not afraid I'm going to sell you out to my Dragonlord?"
Anafenza grinned back. "You have nothing to sell out. All I've done is tell you about the Abzan. If you decide to blab, they'll probably just kill you." Javed hesitated. He knew she was right. He was on thin enough ice as it was. It wouldn't do to appear knowledgeable about conspiracies.
"Look, Javed," she continued. "I know you have no reason to trust me. I know you've been taught one thing for your whole life. But there are things you don't know. And they will change your view on the life you are living. You deserve to know these things. The world deserves to know."
"Wow," Javed whistled. "You make it seem like this is some life changing stuff." Anafenza nodded. "And you're right, I don't know you, not really." He looked at her levelly. "And yet, I do trust you. I feel something...familiar around you. I definitely don't feel anything bad. And if I'm going to be able to judge anything, I need to follow my gut."
Anafenza smiled. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."
"But, Anafenza," and now his expression turned serious, "I will never betray my clan. Regardless of how I feel, if you ask me to do that, we're through."
Anafenza gazed back at him. "Fair enough. Remember, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. I know you won't betray your clan. You're loyal. You're selfless. And I also know, once you have the full story, you will do the right thing."
Javed returned her gaze. The atmosphere was tense, yet not ominous. Like a firm handshake. Then she smiled, and gave him a salute. He watched stunned as she faded away, halfway returning her salute.
After she left, Javed gathered up his armor, reattaching it so that he would be ready to travel when the search party arrived. He went to the spring and got another drink, and splashed some water onto his face.
Then he walked to the edge of the grove and looked out onto the desert. The sun had sunk from its height, but he was surprised by how little time had appeared to pass. Javed felt like a different person. Like a lifetime had passed. He tried to decide how he felt about all of this, but it was too much to handle. He would need time, and ideally, he would need more information. Anafenza had made it seem like more would be forthcoming. Well, he wouldn't do anything until he felt satisfied.
He began gathering sticks for a signal fire. Even if the search party was being led to him, it would be good to give them a concrete indicator of his location.
Javed wondered why he was able to take this so well. He had just conversed with a traitorous spirit, that seemed to bear a grudge against the Dromoka. Compared to everything else, this was the worst thing he had done all day. Then he reconsidered that statement. He hadn't agreed with her. And he wasn't sure that he could have exercised any type of power over her, as she was a spirit.
He had killed his scalelord, under her direction. And yet it was his hand. And yet it was her direction. And yet she was right. By so doing, he had saved his patrol. Was it really ok to look at it that way? Would Dromoka see it that way?
He had spoken with a spirit. The penalty for calling on spirits was death. Necromancy in all its forms was abhorred by the Dromoka. And yet he hadn't asked for this, unless he had, by calling for her aid during the battle. Was he expected to have attacked a spirit to prove himself? Was he expected to have run away? All he did was listen. Was that a crime? How would a scalelord see it?
Javed didn't like these questions. He didn't like having questions. This morning everything had seemed so normal, so secure. Now, if anyone knew of the thoughts he was entertaining, he would at the very least be banished. And more likely executed. Such ideas could create dissension in the clan. And unity was necessary for survival. He knew this!
He wanted to blame Anafenza. To curse her for telling him these things. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. I don't know if it is something to do with spirits, or just her, but I trust her. She feels...good, and right. If I had felt anything cold, or uncertain, I would have fled. I never did. I felt like I was talking to a friend.
Javed finally succeeded in getting the signal fire going. He knelt by it, fanning the flames and doing his best to shield it from the wind. He watched the smoke as it rose through the air, into the trees above. The wispy vaporous quality felt evocative, reminiscent. He felt subdued. He could remember events from the day, divorced from the emotions that had accompanied them. Maybe he had just used up all his energy.
Javed heard a call. He bolted up right and searched the wastes. Quickly he saw the group of his fellow scaleguards. They were accompanied by a supply wagon. He was saved! He yelled and waved. They returned the wave, and began making their way to him. Javed smiled widely to see their approach. It was good to see them.
He would return to civilization. He would be judged for his crimes. He would accept his fate. He would not tell of what he had seen here. Javed smiled. Soon, all would be normal again.
