1.2
The scorching wind carried fine grains of sand across the landscape, the goggles that I wore only serving to obscure my vision. I huddled in the temporary bunker I had dug for myself to wait out the sandstorm, but the ruthless climate of the Shurima desert made even this difficult.
From the moment I was finally free of the Summoner's Institute, I had opted to leave the place as quickly as I could. Now, I had one short month of respite before I would officially join the Summoners in the Institute of War. Pulling out a blue orb from my pack, I concentrated on it, feeling my mind link to the orb. All Summoners had such an orb, which was the focus of their powers.
Gazing deep within the orb, I allowed it to form a connection with me, and then pushed downwards. The motion replicated itself with much more force beneath me, carving out a larger bunker for me to rest in. I had thought the incoming sandstorm would blow over quickly, but apparently this wasn't the case.
I coughed, getting some sand out of my windpipes, before sitting down and relaxing. I was supposed to have passed through a village to restock on supplies two days ago, and then was supposed to resupply at another village yesterday and today, but either my map was wrong or something odd had happened, as I had not seen any traces of civilization since entering the desert.
My supplies were quickly dwindling, and I only had a few gulps of water left on me. The absences of the villages worried me. Although the tribes that inhabited this area tended to be nomadic, the listed settlements were supposedly permanent. However, not a trace of their existence remained within several leagues of the village's supposed location.
Thinking to an article I had read about groundwater, I touched my orb, once again bonding with it. This time, I gradually released my senses, until I was hardly aware of the world. Then, I focused on something else, letting a new sense fill in the gap that I had left. Now, wherever I looked, I would be able to see moisture. And there was painfully little.
Looking down, there was hardly any groundwater to be found. All of it was very sparsely spread, far too little to be of use. A few creatures with bodies containing water scuttled about, but that wasn't going to help. There were no wells, or any sizable reservoirs of water as far as I could see. In fact, there wasn't even another human within sight. Not entirely unexpected, I supposed, but I had hoped for the best and came up with the worst.
I pushed the water-sense back into the orb, and pulled back my regular senses, slowly able to feel the rough grains of sand, hear the howling wind and even feel temperature. I had given up virtually every ability to feel, save for the ones that tied me to my body, and it wasn't a comfortable feeling.
Glad to be back to normal, I packed my orb away, not wanting it to be damaged by the sand, and continued to wait. The blustering winds eventually settled into a powerful rhythm, and I listened with my eyes shut to the world. This was oddly peaceful, despite the thirst that burned my throat, and I must have fell asleep, as when my eyes opened, the sandstorm had ended.
The climb out of the bunker took only a few seconds, and the desert outside looked nearly identical to the one I had left before. I groaned when I realized I would have no choice but to press onwards. Regularly, I would have been delighted by the prospect, but I had no idea whether I would survive this trip, given my water had already ran out.
It would take too long to go back the way I came from, so my only option was to press on and hope for the best. If I died here out in the open desert, well, only Piltover's cartographers and my lack of foresight would be to blame. I wasn't quite ready to kick the bucket, yet, so I took off, trudging deeper into the Shurima in the hopes of finding a village or well.
The time and landscape passed slower than the Demacian-Noxus peace talks went. It was agonizing, remaining lucid while my body lurched forwards, step after step, with me unable to do anything. Then the soreness in my throat became a dull ache, that intensified with every second I spent further out in the sun.
All the energy had left my body as I continued to stumble on, in the vain hopes of finding some sort of water out in the open desert. I had foolishly traded in my steed for some local currency when I belatedly realized my Piltover dollars held no value here. Now, I was facing the consequences of that impulsive decision.
My walk continued, the path I left a stumbling uncertain trail that winded about. I knew I was walking inefficiently, but I couldn't help it. There was nothing I could do as my body sank into the soft sand, unwilling to get up. The warm grains surrounded my body, and I felt like falling asleep. It would be warm, blissful, unlike the myriad of pains that had sprouted out in my body.
Then I jolted awake, aware that I didn't have much time left. Slowly pulling myself up, I didn't even bother to remove the sand from my face as I continued onwards. Out in the horizon, I spied a speck of a telltale structure, and determination rushed through me. I can make it this next hour or so, I told myself, moving ahead.
Perhaps I would be able to. The distance quickly shortened, and soon, more structures appeared in my vision. Then, I noticed something was off. There was a queer silence about the place, no sound of work or childish laughter, not even the sound of a fire burning or really, anything.
It didn't matter to me, though. Even if the village wasn't occupied, there was bound to be some water in here somewhere. I finally entered the village boundaries, passing through a low sandstone wall that had clearly seen better years. I passed through old stone structures that were clearly meant for residence, but while there were scraps of things inside them, there was nobody to be found.
However, I had spied a circular structure by the center of the village, and this was all I cared about. I made my way towards the well, hypnotized, and eventually found my arms resting on it. Only a little more, I reminded myself, and looked down.
The well was dry. Not a drop of water could be seen by the bottom of the shallow structure, and I tried to swallow, but my throat was obviously dry. Standing in the center of the deserted village, I couldn't even summon the moisture to cry. I collapsed once more onto the ground, not knowing what I could do at this point.
I couldn't give up, not really, but what could I do now? Venture on in the hopes of finding water? The notion that civilization even existed in the Shurima seemed rather ridiculous to me. I had clearly been played as a fool when I read about the floating pyramids, the magnificent tombs, and the elements of civilizations millennia passed that were still perfectly preserved in the Shurima.
The drumbeat of hooves in the distance caught my attention. The steady beat quickly grew louder, and I rolled over to look at the incoming party. A tall, dark skinned woman rode in the lead, with around ten men behind her. They rushed forwards in a V-formation, bellowing war cries. It seemed to me that they hadn't realized that this village was deserted.
Without enough time to pick myself up and hide, I could do nothing but wait while they rushed into the village, curved blades gleaming. They quickly came to the same conclusion that I had, the men growling in frustration while the woman moved ahead.
As she got closer, I managed to get a better look at her. Her entire body was toned as a warrior's would be, but she wore very minimal amounts of armor and... clothing, too. From the looks of the emeralds inlaid in her armor, they provided some sort of magical protection that meant she could wear lighter armor and still be safe.
Her brunette hair flowed down to her shoulders, harsh green eyes betraying the barely tempered look on her face. Despite her savage clothing and actions, she held herself with a noble poise, the only dignified woman among brutes. Just glancing at her, I could already tell that she had a very developed figure, and I anxiously hoped that when she spotted me, she wouldn't be able to spot the telltale budge in my pants.
At long last, she got to the well, and looked at me.
"And who are you," she growled, looking straight at me.
"A.. ss..s..suh...," I tried to form words, but I just rasped.
It was when she held her boomerang blade above me, about to casually execute me that I realized who she was. The legendary Battle Mistress, Sivir, a champion of the League of Legends. She was a mercenary who operated in the Shurima, and I suppose part of her job entailed raiding villages.
However, before she could bring her blade down, I desperately grabbed at my pack, pulling out my Summoner's Orb, showing it to her. Sivir glanced at it, hesitating, before putting down her blade.
"A summoner? Why didn't you say so?" Sivir asked, her tone surprisingly warm.
I shrugged, gesturing at the large water flask that hung at her side. I could see the smile on her face as she unstrapped the flask and tossed it at me. Greedily grabbing it, I took the water I nearly swallowed the flask whole, letting the water flow down my throat.
Several long seconds later, I gasped in satisfaction, briefly pausing for air before downing more liquid. The men had realized that there was nothing of value to be found in the village, and were crowded in a ring behind Sivir, who seemed to hold them at bay with her presence alone. She called roughly for some water when she saw I had finished her flask, and someone produced more liquid for me to down.
I felt a dull ache in my stomach after several minutes of relentless drinking, but it felt good to finally taste water after the few days without it. Eventually, I set my third flask down, watching worriedly as the men grew restless, fingering their massive weapons.
"Are you our magician, then?" Sivir asked, staring at me oddly.
I shook my head.
"Well, might as well be our magician. I figure you're gonna have to stay with us anyways, given how you seem to be incompetent at surviving in the desert," she continued, and I flushed with embarrassment.
Finding my voice, I asked: "Magician?"
"Well, we need some help dealing with magical elements when we raid tombs, so we always have a magician with us. However, our last one died, so we got in contact to find a new one, and I just followed the trail. Apparently, we were following yours and not the right one."
"Well, there might be a problem here, then. I'm Ezreal, Grand Master Explorer of Piltover, and I can't allow tomb-raiding to occur here in the Shurima."
"No wonder you looked familiar, Ezreal. I wasn't aware that the Shurima was under Piltover's jurisdiction."
I flushed again. Sivir was known for her beauty and brawn, not her wits. It seemed to me, however, that it would be best to just play on with whatever she had in mind for now, so that I could get home safely.
"In that case," I continued, "I'd be honored to join your mercenaries here."
Sivir gave a quick nod, satisfied, and whistled for a horse to come. She handed me the reigns wordlessly, and barked something in a harsh tongue that I did not speak, but recognized as some dialect of Shumarian. Glancing at the horse, I quickly realized with a sinking feeling that traveling on horse would be immensely difficult.
The steed I had brought with me had been one with a saddle and nice leg-loops and other fancy contraptions to keep me, an inexperienced rider, on my horse. In front of me was an untamed beast that wished to run free.
"Sivir," I called out, as the mercenaries began to mount their horses, "I can't ride without a saddle."
Sivir turned back and looked at me, green eyes flashing incredulously. Then, slowly, she let out a high laugh, a melodic sound that was taken up by the other mercenaries. The noise deepened, booming and echoing through the open sky, and I couldn't help but crack a grin myself.
Wordlessly, she reached into one of her packs and pulled out a long length of rope, quickly measuring some lengths by eye, and then sliced the rope with her unique blade. Now equipped with several lengths of rope, she told me to get on the horse, and I obliged. Then, with a quick series of motions, she tied my body down onto the horse until I was bound upright, stuck to the horse.
More laughter sounded, and I shook my head ruefully. At the very least, the ropes weren't quite tight enough to cut off my circulation, but I was sure they would hold me down. It was a bit excessive, but there was nothing I could do about my predicament now. Sivir held one of the ropes leading her horse in front of me, and I understood that she would be guiding my horse.
Speaking in the Shumarian tongue, Sivir called out some command, and the horses kicked off, leaving a cloud of dust behind as we advanced.
We rode through the day, Sivir grasping my horse's ropes to guide it as we traveled across the desert. The wind howled loudly in the air, making it difficult to hear speech, so most of the communications consisted of calls from the front-riders and back-riders, who served as scouts.
The steady rhythm and movement was only broken as we stopped for a noon meal, the horses panting as we came to a rest. The horses formed a small ring, a natural barrier and non-permanent encampment that also served as a quick means to escape. So far, the landscape had been quite unremarkable, and I was disappointed. Was there really nothing fascinating worth seeing after four days of travel on foot and half a day more on horse?
"I'll take this time to brief you on the tomb we're raiding," a voice called out from behind me. Sivir.
"The great mage Khepri, Scorn of the Sands, was buried in it. Although the possibility of traps is low, the local tribes people are sure to wish to defend such a sacred monument to their ancestry. It's one of the sixteen great floating tombs, as I'm sure you know something about, but we'll see how long it stays afloat without its amulet," Sivir finished.
I grimly nodded, realizing that there wasn't much I could do to oppose the raid. The men spread out a large cloth over the sands, and began distributing loaves of bread. I squirmed, trying to break free of the bonds that held me. Sivir, still behind me, sliced through half the ropes with a clean cut.
I slid off the horse, and sat down beside a large man with a long, dark beard. Tanned from months out in the sun, he wore flowing grey robes, worn from months of travel. A large axe lay by him, sharpened and gleaming, and I saw that his physique was truly one of a warrior. While some relied on magic to enhance their strength during the heat of combat, many did not have this luxury, or did not like to rely on it.
Still, it was my poor excuse for not physically training. To my chagrin, I never seemed to have enough time to work out. An unfortunate consequence of spending too much time practicing practical applications of magic, I supposed.
The man next to me ripped off a large chunk of bread from one of the larger loaves near the center, and I imitated him, chewing the coarse grains and quickly swallowing. The stuff wasn't very nutritious, but it was certainly quite filling. The mercenaries, all men save for Sivir, began conversing. I couldn't follow the conversation, but laughed all the same when one of them told a joke.
However, it seemed that my awkward situation was fairly obvious to the others, as Sivir quickly approached me.
"How would you like to fetch some water with me?" she asked, subconsciously pressing her assets out towards me.
I swallowed, forcing my eyes upwards, and agreed to go with her. We each picked up several large water-skins, and I followed behind Sivir as we exited our makeshift camp. We walked in companionable silence for several minutes, as I tried my best not to stare at Sivir's garments or body, before a well appeared out of the blue, right next to Sivir.
"How does that work," I inquired, staring at the well suspiciously.
"Nearly all structures in the Shurima are covered with thick enchantments that hide them from sight unless one gets very close or knows how to look for the signs," Sivir explained, motioning at the well.
"Of course, I remember reading a minor detail about that now," I said, not understanding how people could fail to emphasize such an important detail. Perhaps that was why I wasn't able to find the villages along the path?
Sivir reached for the rope in the well, pulling up a bucket full of water and filling up a water-skin with it. I helped her out, content with watching her labor, a layer of sweat soon building up over her tan skin. She must have noticed that I was watching, but she didn't seem to mind very much. I certainly didn't.
After ten or twenty minutes, the water-skins were all full, and I reached down and tried to pick up half of them. Straining, I barely managed to carry them, and promptly dropped one. Luckily, no water spilled out, but Sivir wordlessly took several water-skins from my arms and carried them herself.
I shook my head, embarrassed at how weak I was, and swore to physically better myself sometime soon. We headed back towards the camp, making our way at a slower pace than before.
"I thought you quit being a mercenary after you joined the League," I asked Sivir.
"I did," Sivir replied, "but then I started again. I would say more, but it's personal stuff, you know?"
"Yea, some stuff just isn't meant to be shared," I added thoughtfully.
We entered the camp again, passing through the lines of horses. I panted and wheezed, and while I hadn't completely recovered from my bout of dehydration, I doubted that I would have fared much better at my peak.
Sivir and I distributed the water-skins back to their respective owners, and I finished up my meal. The mercenaries lounged about, chatting and maintaining their equipment. I pulled out my maps and notes, making some annotations about things I had learned, seen and discovered, updating various things.
Khepri's tomb was marked on my map, and based on the rate we were traveling at, we would probably reach it sometime early the next day. I noticed that there were significantly more traces of civilization marked around this region. A legacy of the magicians that had once inhabited the region, or a coincidence?
The mercenaries were getting up now, and I followed in turn, packing up various scrolls and bound books. I leaped onto my horse, and he nickered softly. He padded the ground nervously, as if he knew that he bore an inexperienced rider. I called out to Sivir, who took one look at me on the horse, and pulled out the ropes that she had used from before. Although split into smaller pieces, the rope was still tied on me firmly by Sivir.
I thanked her, unsure of how long it would take for me to learn how to ride a horse bareback, before we were on the move again. Sitting near the lead, the only person I could really see was Sivir, who was in front of me. I observed her posture and the way she rode, and did my best to imitate it, constrained as I was by the ropes that surrounded me.
It was then that I noticed something odd about her when she rode. A faint blue glow that I had never noticed, rippling off in waves, seemed to emanate from her. As the blue waves passed through me and my horse, we were both instilled with a sense of vigor that empowered us to move faster.
I craned my neck to look behind me, and noticed that while the waves had dissipated some, they still urged the others to move quicker. This was a type of magic that I had rarely seen before. In Valoran, magic was generally split into two types – core-based and cell-based. Most Summoners, including myself, relied on core-based magic. However, judging on the nearly subconscious use of magic, as well as the way in which the waves statically appeared, I guessed that she was using cell-based magic.
Really, it shouldn't have surprised me. Nearly every champion in the League of Legends could use magic, whether it be core-based, cell-based, something else entirely, or some combination of the three. Even Garen, the Demacian swordsman had revealed in an interview that he used magic to enhance his body and blows, including his famous "Demacian Justice".
For several minutes, I sat contentedly, watching the subtle blue waves wash over me. Oddly enough, although I felt my reactions were faster and movements quicker, it was fairly easy for me to pinpoint to what extent this was occurring. I knew how much faster I was moving, and the degree of control I now had over my body was simply astounding.
However, I ignored this as I gradually drifted off to sleep on the horse, since I didn't have to worry about riding it properly. The steady rhythm rocked me to sleep, and the world faded to dark.
I was jolted awake from my nap by the sudden stopping of the horses. I peered out into the darkness, able to make out faces lit by burning torches. It was night, now and with the desert night came the cold. I shivered, watching as the others dismounted.
"Sivir, could you help me out here?" I called out.
She hopped off her horse and stared at me. She strode up to my, swaying her hips slightly. I tried my best not to react as she lay a hand on my back, where the ropes met, and she delicately untied the knots that held the rope in place. A few minutes later, the ropes dropped off, and I got off of my horse.
The others had began pitching tents on the sand, with two men sharing a tent. Someone had gotten round to setting up a fire, although where the wood came from was beyond me. As a few of the mercenaries cooked dinner (a thin stew), I sat down to wait. My alert eyes caught every spark that flew into the black sky, aware of the casual arrogance that we displayed.
The cold was getting to me, and I inched closer to the fire for more warmth. I had packed for the cold desert climate, but had not expected temperatures to drop so low. Some minutes later, Sivir sat down next to me and she looked straight at me, before clearing her throat.
"Sorry to break the news to you now, but you're going to have to share a tent with me," Sivir said.
"Wait. Come again?" I asked, feeling my ears burn red.
"Well, you heard what I said. Our last magician died with his tent stored in his personal vacuum, and we haven't had time to replace it. Since I'm the only one who sleeps alone, you're going to have to sleep with me, as awkward as that sounds," Sivir explained.
I shook my head. This was absolutely ridiculous. Not that I entirely minded sharing a tent with Sivir, but that was what worried me. Even though I wasn't directly looking at Sivir, I could see the dark outline of her hourglass figure. Sleeping alone in the sand was certainly not a very attractive option, when compared to this offer.
I turned to face Sivir, and saw her eyes staring straight back at me, waiting for a response. I decided not to give her one. The stew was ready, so I got up and got a bowl, and waited in line for my serving. There were more important things on my mind than sharing a tent with an attractive lady. Khepri's tomb was a big one, for starters.
The evening meal went by in a similar fashion to the noonday one, and soon the men retired to their tents, conversing in low tones. A few of the mercenaries ribbed me, as if daring me to do something, but I politely ignored them. I knew what they wanted, and it wasn't helping me keep my feelings under control at all.
When the last mercenary entered his tent, Sivir got up, and motioned for me. I wordlessly stood up and followed her through the desert night, holding up a glowing Summoner's orb for illumination. We quickly reached the tent, a rather small thing up close, and Sivir opened the front flap and slipped in.
"Don't come in unless you wish to see me changing," she called out, and I stopped in my tracks.
I wore my Summoner's robes, which could really be worn to any occasion, so I hadn't bothered packing any change of clothes. A rather unintelligent decision, but this was my first time out of Piltover. Rather ironic for the Grand Master Explorer of Piltover, I thought.
A few minutes later, I pulled open the tent flap and ducked in, just in time to see Sivir pull on a gown over her half-naked body. Really, it was nothing I hadn't seen in her revealing armor, and she wasn't facing me, but the very idea of seeing her in this state caused me to flush in embarrassment and stiffen in a lower place.
"What took you so long," I growled, slipping under the woolen bed-sheet.
"My armor takes a while to put on and take off," Sivir replied, getting under the bed-sheet as well.
I lay on the far left of the tent, while Sivir was on the right, but it was tight fit and left about two or three inches of space between us. The inside of the tent, combined with the wool and Sivir's body heat made the cold much more tolerable, and I was glad for having made the decision of sleeping in the tent.
My eyes soon closed, although I couldn't fall asleep. I had napped for several hours too long, but I didn't dare light up my orb to study, in case Sivir was asleep. Thus, all I could do was lay down and wait. Half an hour passed, and I didn't feel any drowsier than before. I was growing restless, but didn't to even move, in case it disturbed the blanket. Who knew how lightly the Battle-Mistress slept?
Daydreaming, I didn't even notice when Sivir hissed out "Ezreal!" She must have judged that I was sound asleep by then, as she shifted over until our arms were just about touching. I wondered what she was doing, but didn't move as I felt a soft pair of lips breath against mine, before touching them briefly.
I wanted to kiss back, to do something completely inappropriate and violate her, but I stilled my raging hormones. She slowly snaked an arm around my back, gradually pulling me closer to her, and she snuggled up against me, pressing her firm breasts against my back.
The two orbs felt like heaven to me, and I held my breath for several long moments. Then, I felt her bend over me and rest her head in the crook of my neck. Several minutes later, I heard her softly snoring.
Utterly confused and aroused, it was a while before I too fell asleep.
