Chapter 23
The Anuroch Desert lay before her, spreading out for endless miles in all directions. The trees standing tall behind her in defiance against the dead landscape in front of her were the only ones within a three days' travel.
Donnia had no idea how she had stumbled across this place, but there it was glaring her in the face.
It had been almost a month since her first encounter with strange woman in her dream. She had seen her, or sometimes just heard her, a couple times since that night. Each time before she woke that other voice was also there, making her want to ignore the calling in her heart to go to wherever she was needed and just let someone else handle it. But there was something inside her telling her that there was no one else, she was it.
This frightened her more than any enemy she had ever faced, including the dragons. She knew then that if she failed for the woman who was calling to her then there was no one else to take up the fight.
Not only had the two voices haunted Donnia's dreams. She still had nightmares about Aribeth. They did not come every night, thank the gods. But they came often enough. Sometimes she would be lucky to wake up before it got too horrible, other times she was not as fortunate. It was those days following those long nights that had her wishing for everything, for nothing.
She wished that her mother had not been killed by that man, that the plague had not come, that she never had the dream of being a member of the city guard. Why did she always have to want more than was possible? Wasn't the life her parents making for her enough? Why did she have to want to become something better, something more?
When she started thinking like this Donnia felt hollow inside. She could hear the tears falling, echoing throughout her mind, but no longer would they fall. She had not shed a tear since that first night she had been alone. Since then she had turned off her emotions, knowing that they would be her downfall.
Donnia took her first step into the sands of the great desert. Immediately she felt the hot sun beating down on her, heating her skin rapidly under her red armor. The sticky sweat flowed freely down her face, streaming down her back. She merely wiped it away as it neared her eyes.
She knew that luck was with her; there was no wind. She knew that if it were windy she could become lost for days, weeks even, struggling to keep moving forward through the raging, blowing sands.
The soft sand muffled her steps, swallowing the sound. She was lucky that she liked tall boots, for her foot did not sink in deep enough to have the sand spilling into them. Her sword, her newly acquired Dagger of Chaos, grew heavy in her grasp. She quickly, but thoroughly scanned the area surrounding as far as her eyes would allow, searching for danger. Seeing none, she put her sword away, welcoming the relief from its heavy weight.
She continued to press on, though her weary body ached with every step. She knew that she had to keep moving or else would not survive the trek through the desert. She only had a limited supply of water in her pack, but she knew that some of her potions would work just as well, and not just in keeping her hydrated; their added magical qualities would make her journey just that much easier.
She walked for hours without seeing any form of life, vegetation or not. She did not know where she was headed, just that she was heading east, thankfully with the sun finally behind her at this point in the day.
Just as the sun settled behind the tall dunes behind her, Donnia spotted the dull glow of a campfire. She wondered who else would be ridiculous enough not to find a way around this infernal desert but instead travel right through its heart. She had no idea whether the camp would contain allies or enemies, but she needed to know before finding a place to make a camp of her own.
She neared the camp, keeping mostly behind tall dunes to hide her approach. She was too weary to draw her greatsword, so instead she removed a short sword from her belt, not wanting to be caught unarmed should the camp be full of thieves, or worse.
She heard laughter coming from nearby, the sound traveling from the unknown camp, and quickly ducked down closer to the ground. Since the outburst at the first inn, Donnia had avoided sleeping in inns, not wanting to see that kind of pain on anyone's face again. Because of her sleeping out in the open, her senses had been refined allowing her to hear even the lightest footsteps in soft ground, see the outline of a being, and know whether they meant her harm or not, and smell her adversaries, long before she ever saw them. Now she could hear small, light footsteps, two pairs of them, coming near. She heard the two of them talking to each other, not caring who could hear them. The conversation seemed to be worried. They had lost someone, and apparently they were important.
"But he left five days ago! If he had found water he should have come back by now."
"Maybe he had more trouble convincing them to let us use it." The last statement coming out more as a question than a reassuring statement of fact.
"Even if he had trouble, you would think that Dorna would have come back, especially if there had been trouble of any other sort."
"Let's just give it two more days, and if neither one has been heard of or seen we'll send out someone to look for them."
The other seemed to be pleased with this conclusion and the conversation switched to something of less a consequence.
Donnia sat there in the sand, still as she could be, wondering what she should do. She knew that if she just strolled up to the campsite she would surely be attacked. She also knew that if she was found squatting here in the sand, hiding, she would also be attacked. She stood slowly and put away her sword, but her decision was made for her before she could a step in either direction.
"Hey! You there! What are you doing?!" a voice called out from the darkness.
Donnia slowly moved her hands away from her weapons hanging from her waist and called out, "My name is Donnia. I'm just traveling through the desert."
This did not seem to matter to the invisible source of the voice, "Traveling to where?"
Great, I don't even know the answer to that one. I don't even know where I am or where I've been, let alone what is in any direction from here. Donnia's thoughts raced through her mind, hoping to find an answer to the question she was asked as well as an answer for her own questions. She said the only thing that made sense, "I don't know. I'm lost."
There was a long pause before the voice came again, "Where are you from then?"
"I'm from Neverwinter," Donnia called back.
There was an even longer pause this time. Donnia was almost wondering what she was supposed to do when the source of the voice came into sight. At first it was nothing but a silhouette against the night, but she was lightened in noticing it was a halfling. Immediately she thought of Tomi, but would not let her mind be distracted in this situation.
Donnia chanced speaking again, "I heard from some of the members of your camp that you lost someone. Perhaps I could help you."
While she had been speaking the small figure had come even closer and now she could fully study him. He was short, even compared against other halflings, but stood with an air of importance that overshadowed his insubstantial height. His hair was a sandy brown, falling in front of his sharp blue eyes. He held a dagger in each hand, but the grip was slightly relaxed. "Yes, we have lost someone. Someone rather important too."
"Would you allow me to help you? I might be able to find them, or find why they have been gone for so long."
"How much?" the short man asked.
Donnia was confused for a moment before replying, "Nothing."
This seemed to throw the man off balance for a moment. He had not been prepared for her benevolent response. He studied her in the long silence, taking in everything, from the brightest red hair he had ever beheld sticking to her head in sweat to the way she stood, weary from traveling for a long time in the withering heat of the great desert. He saw her weapons hanging at her side, also noting that her hands had never strayed near them during the entire time they had spoken. He wondered if it was from inexperience or from trust. Judging by the quality of the weapons themselves and the armor that must have been truly heavy he guessed it to be the latter of the two. "If you are willing to do it for no gold, then who am I to stop you?"
Donnia smiled at him, "Okay then. You know my name, but what is yours?"
"Torias. Come, let me introduce you around to the rest of the little caravan here."
Donnia followed behind him into the heart of the halfling caravan, several of its members coming out at the sound of a stranger's voice. "Hey everyone! I found some help for us to find Telwern and Dorna."
Donnia counted about 15 halflings gathered around her and Torias plus a human man, who truly seemed out of place, but also appeared to know what he was about. He strode forward to meet Donnia. "Hello, my name is Mori, I'm the guide for them through the desert. Who are you?"
Donnia was suddenly very appreciative of her great height though she still had to look up at him. "My name is Donnia. I'm lost, but I'm originally from Neverwinter."
Hearing the name of the city, the guide looked at her strangely, "You really are lost then, Donnia. That's a good two months away from here by foot."
Two months? She thought she had only been gone one. Apparently traveling through time backwards 10,000 years alters your perception of time slightly.
Mori noticed the look of shock that passed across her face at the mention of the two months worth of travel. He was growing more and more curious of their new-found help. "Where are you headed?"
Donnia shook herself from her thoughts on trying to figure out how much time had truly passed since leaving Lord Nasher stammering in her wake to answer him, "That is kind of a long story."
"Well, we have plenty of time left in this night. You need to rest. You look like you are about to fall over and the only thing that is holding you up is sheer will and determination not to fall over at my feet. I'll set you up so that you can get cleaned up and refreshed. I would love to hear you story."
"I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to clean my equipment, thank you."
Mori nodded at her and led her toward one of the wagons that surrounded the small fire.
* * * * * * * * *
Alone in the wagon, Donnia quickly took in her surroundings. She noted every crevice, every plank of wood, everything. She did it without even knowing she had. Every night before sleep she would memorize the landscape should an attack come in the night. Even now with several others around her she did it on instinct.
She pulled her greatsword from its sheath and carefully places it on the floor. She untied the belt that held her short sword and several throwing daggers and laid it next to the sword. She removed her armor, treating it with the care one would with fine crystal glass. Free from the substantial weight of her armor, Donnia breathed in deeply, enjoying the feel of freedom her body felt for the first time in as long as she could remember.
She stretched her arms high over her head, sighing with the new feeling of liberation in her body. She kicked off her boots and pushed them out of the way with her foot. As she strode across the small room she took of her leather padding she wore on her legs under her armor and the light cotton tunic. She reached the large basin of water and noticed a mirror hanging behind it. It had been quite some time since she had seen her own reflection and she was startled at her own appearance.
Her red hair hung loose over her shoulders and reached nearly to her waist. She knew that she would have to chop it off or it would cause her sever problems soon. Her once bright green eyes reflected dully back at her from the mirror. Her fair-complected skin was covered in grime, blood, and streaked with sweat. Her body bore the scars of a warrior, old bruises shone in various stages of healing. They ranged from bright purple to a dull yellow. She probed most of them with her finger, sharply inhaling breath through her teeth as she ranged over the newer ones.
The scars...each one a memory, a flashback. She traced them lightly with her hand, taken back to when each was put onto her body. She tried counting them, just for curiosity's sake, but gave up. What was the point in only knowing the ones that she herself could see? She knew just as many scars graces her skin on her back as did on the rest of her body that she could see.
She looked down at her hands. They too bore scars just like the rest of her body. Calluses stood out at the base of each finger and in the palm from her sword. She remembered well when the blisters had finally healed and were replaced by the tougher skin. That morning she had been able to pick up her sword without pain. She knew that she should wear gloves, but she felt that she needed the physical contact between her skin and her weapon. That only when one touched the other was she ever in control.
She dropped her gaze from her body's reflection in the long mirror, from her hands before her and climbed into the water before it got much cooler.
She sighed in thankful appreciation as she slid into the water. She could already feel some of the tension leaving her body as she relaxed against the back of the basin. She lay just like that for several minutes before moving to scrape the grime and dirt from her body. Her mother had taught her how to make soap, something she was always thankful she knew how to do; sometimes water just wouldn't rinse blood from her body. The suds slid over skin, removing the last bit of her hard journey from her body.
Donnia reached over and removed her short sword from her belt. Taking a large handful of hair she quickly sliced through it, leaving it at a length just below her shoulders. She did the same with the rest of her hair, enjoying being free from its weight as well.
She ducked her head under the water to rinse the soap from her face and hair before climbing out of the basin. She stood there shivering for a moment, looking for something to dry off with. She found nothing except an extra tunic in her pack.
Dried and dressed once again in her newly rinsed out tunic and leather padded pants she stepped back out of the wagon where Mori was waiting for her.
He led her to the fire where a few of the halflings were gathered, talking amongst themselves. As the two of them sat down they all became quiet.
Mori was the first to speak, "You said you had a long story? We would be honored to hear it if you would share it with us."
Donnia sat down and stretched out her long legs to warm them by the fire. She took a moment to decide where to start. She looked around the fire, at all of the waiting faces. "I guess the best place to start would be back at the beginning."
Donnia told them everything, from the death of her mother to the strange woman in her dreams. As she spoke she threaded her fingers through her hair, allowing it to dry faster and warm her.
As she finished each person around the fire could barely take their gaze from her. They were enraptured by her, her tale, and everything that had happened to the woman to bring her to them.
Again Mori was the first to speak, "Thank you for feeling comfortable enough with us to share your story. But now you must be exhausted. Come, I'll find you a place to sleep."
The Anuroch Desert lay before her, spreading out for endless miles in all directions. The trees standing tall behind her in defiance against the dead landscape in front of her were the only ones within a three days' travel.
Donnia had no idea how she had stumbled across this place, but there it was glaring her in the face.
It had been almost a month since her first encounter with strange woman in her dream. She had seen her, or sometimes just heard her, a couple times since that night. Each time before she woke that other voice was also there, making her want to ignore the calling in her heart to go to wherever she was needed and just let someone else handle it. But there was something inside her telling her that there was no one else, she was it.
This frightened her more than any enemy she had ever faced, including the dragons. She knew then that if she failed for the woman who was calling to her then there was no one else to take up the fight.
Not only had the two voices haunted Donnia's dreams. She still had nightmares about Aribeth. They did not come every night, thank the gods. But they came often enough. Sometimes she would be lucky to wake up before it got too horrible, other times she was not as fortunate. It was those days following those long nights that had her wishing for everything, for nothing.
She wished that her mother had not been killed by that man, that the plague had not come, that she never had the dream of being a member of the city guard. Why did she always have to want more than was possible? Wasn't the life her parents making for her enough? Why did she have to want to become something better, something more?
When she started thinking like this Donnia felt hollow inside. She could hear the tears falling, echoing throughout her mind, but no longer would they fall. She had not shed a tear since that first night she had been alone. Since then she had turned off her emotions, knowing that they would be her downfall.
Donnia took her first step into the sands of the great desert. Immediately she felt the hot sun beating down on her, heating her skin rapidly under her red armor. The sticky sweat flowed freely down her face, streaming down her back. She merely wiped it away as it neared her eyes.
She knew that luck was with her; there was no wind. She knew that if it were windy she could become lost for days, weeks even, struggling to keep moving forward through the raging, blowing sands.
The soft sand muffled her steps, swallowing the sound. She was lucky that she liked tall boots, for her foot did not sink in deep enough to have the sand spilling into them. Her sword, her newly acquired Dagger of Chaos, grew heavy in her grasp. She quickly, but thoroughly scanned the area surrounding as far as her eyes would allow, searching for danger. Seeing none, she put her sword away, welcoming the relief from its heavy weight.
She continued to press on, though her weary body ached with every step. She knew that she had to keep moving or else would not survive the trek through the desert. She only had a limited supply of water in her pack, but she knew that some of her potions would work just as well, and not just in keeping her hydrated; their added magical qualities would make her journey just that much easier.
She walked for hours without seeing any form of life, vegetation or not. She did not know where she was headed, just that she was heading east, thankfully with the sun finally behind her at this point in the day.
Just as the sun settled behind the tall dunes behind her, Donnia spotted the dull glow of a campfire. She wondered who else would be ridiculous enough not to find a way around this infernal desert but instead travel right through its heart. She had no idea whether the camp would contain allies or enemies, but she needed to know before finding a place to make a camp of her own.
She neared the camp, keeping mostly behind tall dunes to hide her approach. She was too weary to draw her greatsword, so instead she removed a short sword from her belt, not wanting to be caught unarmed should the camp be full of thieves, or worse.
She heard laughter coming from nearby, the sound traveling from the unknown camp, and quickly ducked down closer to the ground. Since the outburst at the first inn, Donnia had avoided sleeping in inns, not wanting to see that kind of pain on anyone's face again. Because of her sleeping out in the open, her senses had been refined allowing her to hear even the lightest footsteps in soft ground, see the outline of a being, and know whether they meant her harm or not, and smell her adversaries, long before she ever saw them. Now she could hear small, light footsteps, two pairs of them, coming near. She heard the two of them talking to each other, not caring who could hear them. The conversation seemed to be worried. They had lost someone, and apparently they were important.
"But he left five days ago! If he had found water he should have come back by now."
"Maybe he had more trouble convincing them to let us use it." The last statement coming out more as a question than a reassuring statement of fact.
"Even if he had trouble, you would think that Dorna would have come back, especially if there had been trouble of any other sort."
"Let's just give it two more days, and if neither one has been heard of or seen we'll send out someone to look for them."
The other seemed to be pleased with this conclusion and the conversation switched to something of less a consequence.
Donnia sat there in the sand, still as she could be, wondering what she should do. She knew that if she just strolled up to the campsite she would surely be attacked. She also knew that if she was found squatting here in the sand, hiding, she would also be attacked. She stood slowly and put away her sword, but her decision was made for her before she could a step in either direction.
"Hey! You there! What are you doing?!" a voice called out from the darkness.
Donnia slowly moved her hands away from her weapons hanging from her waist and called out, "My name is Donnia. I'm just traveling through the desert."
This did not seem to matter to the invisible source of the voice, "Traveling to where?"
Great, I don't even know the answer to that one. I don't even know where I am or where I've been, let alone what is in any direction from here. Donnia's thoughts raced through her mind, hoping to find an answer to the question she was asked as well as an answer for her own questions. She said the only thing that made sense, "I don't know. I'm lost."
There was a long pause before the voice came again, "Where are you from then?"
"I'm from Neverwinter," Donnia called back.
There was an even longer pause this time. Donnia was almost wondering what she was supposed to do when the source of the voice came into sight. At first it was nothing but a silhouette against the night, but she was lightened in noticing it was a halfling. Immediately she thought of Tomi, but would not let her mind be distracted in this situation.
Donnia chanced speaking again, "I heard from some of the members of your camp that you lost someone. Perhaps I could help you."
While she had been speaking the small figure had come even closer and now she could fully study him. He was short, even compared against other halflings, but stood with an air of importance that overshadowed his insubstantial height. His hair was a sandy brown, falling in front of his sharp blue eyes. He held a dagger in each hand, but the grip was slightly relaxed. "Yes, we have lost someone. Someone rather important too."
"Would you allow me to help you? I might be able to find them, or find why they have been gone for so long."
"How much?" the short man asked.
Donnia was confused for a moment before replying, "Nothing."
This seemed to throw the man off balance for a moment. He had not been prepared for her benevolent response. He studied her in the long silence, taking in everything, from the brightest red hair he had ever beheld sticking to her head in sweat to the way she stood, weary from traveling for a long time in the withering heat of the great desert. He saw her weapons hanging at her side, also noting that her hands had never strayed near them during the entire time they had spoken. He wondered if it was from inexperience or from trust. Judging by the quality of the weapons themselves and the armor that must have been truly heavy he guessed it to be the latter of the two. "If you are willing to do it for no gold, then who am I to stop you?"
Donnia smiled at him, "Okay then. You know my name, but what is yours?"
"Torias. Come, let me introduce you around to the rest of the little caravan here."
Donnia followed behind him into the heart of the halfling caravan, several of its members coming out at the sound of a stranger's voice. "Hey everyone! I found some help for us to find Telwern and Dorna."
Donnia counted about 15 halflings gathered around her and Torias plus a human man, who truly seemed out of place, but also appeared to know what he was about. He strode forward to meet Donnia. "Hello, my name is Mori, I'm the guide for them through the desert. Who are you?"
Donnia was suddenly very appreciative of her great height though she still had to look up at him. "My name is Donnia. I'm lost, but I'm originally from Neverwinter."
Hearing the name of the city, the guide looked at her strangely, "You really are lost then, Donnia. That's a good two months away from here by foot."
Two months? She thought she had only been gone one. Apparently traveling through time backwards 10,000 years alters your perception of time slightly.
Mori noticed the look of shock that passed across her face at the mention of the two months worth of travel. He was growing more and more curious of their new-found help. "Where are you headed?"
Donnia shook herself from her thoughts on trying to figure out how much time had truly passed since leaving Lord Nasher stammering in her wake to answer him, "That is kind of a long story."
"Well, we have plenty of time left in this night. You need to rest. You look like you are about to fall over and the only thing that is holding you up is sheer will and determination not to fall over at my feet. I'll set you up so that you can get cleaned up and refreshed. I would love to hear you story."
"I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to clean my equipment, thank you."
Mori nodded at her and led her toward one of the wagons that surrounded the small fire.
* * * * * * * * *
Alone in the wagon, Donnia quickly took in her surroundings. She noted every crevice, every plank of wood, everything. She did it without even knowing she had. Every night before sleep she would memorize the landscape should an attack come in the night. Even now with several others around her she did it on instinct.
She pulled her greatsword from its sheath and carefully places it on the floor. She untied the belt that held her short sword and several throwing daggers and laid it next to the sword. She removed her armor, treating it with the care one would with fine crystal glass. Free from the substantial weight of her armor, Donnia breathed in deeply, enjoying the feel of freedom her body felt for the first time in as long as she could remember.
She stretched her arms high over her head, sighing with the new feeling of liberation in her body. She kicked off her boots and pushed them out of the way with her foot. As she strode across the small room she took of her leather padding she wore on her legs under her armor and the light cotton tunic. She reached the large basin of water and noticed a mirror hanging behind it. It had been quite some time since she had seen her own reflection and she was startled at her own appearance.
Her red hair hung loose over her shoulders and reached nearly to her waist. She knew that she would have to chop it off or it would cause her sever problems soon. Her once bright green eyes reflected dully back at her from the mirror. Her fair-complected skin was covered in grime, blood, and streaked with sweat. Her body bore the scars of a warrior, old bruises shone in various stages of healing. They ranged from bright purple to a dull yellow. She probed most of them with her finger, sharply inhaling breath through her teeth as she ranged over the newer ones.
The scars...each one a memory, a flashback. She traced them lightly with her hand, taken back to when each was put onto her body. She tried counting them, just for curiosity's sake, but gave up. What was the point in only knowing the ones that she herself could see? She knew just as many scars graces her skin on her back as did on the rest of her body that she could see.
She looked down at her hands. They too bore scars just like the rest of her body. Calluses stood out at the base of each finger and in the palm from her sword. She remembered well when the blisters had finally healed and were replaced by the tougher skin. That morning she had been able to pick up her sword without pain. She knew that she should wear gloves, but she felt that she needed the physical contact between her skin and her weapon. That only when one touched the other was she ever in control.
She dropped her gaze from her body's reflection in the long mirror, from her hands before her and climbed into the water before it got much cooler.
She sighed in thankful appreciation as she slid into the water. She could already feel some of the tension leaving her body as she relaxed against the back of the basin. She lay just like that for several minutes before moving to scrape the grime and dirt from her body. Her mother had taught her how to make soap, something she was always thankful she knew how to do; sometimes water just wouldn't rinse blood from her body. The suds slid over skin, removing the last bit of her hard journey from her body.
Donnia reached over and removed her short sword from her belt. Taking a large handful of hair she quickly sliced through it, leaving it at a length just below her shoulders. She did the same with the rest of her hair, enjoying being free from its weight as well.
She ducked her head under the water to rinse the soap from her face and hair before climbing out of the basin. She stood there shivering for a moment, looking for something to dry off with. She found nothing except an extra tunic in her pack.
Dried and dressed once again in her newly rinsed out tunic and leather padded pants she stepped back out of the wagon where Mori was waiting for her.
He led her to the fire where a few of the halflings were gathered, talking amongst themselves. As the two of them sat down they all became quiet.
Mori was the first to speak, "You said you had a long story? We would be honored to hear it if you would share it with us."
Donnia sat down and stretched out her long legs to warm them by the fire. She took a moment to decide where to start. She looked around the fire, at all of the waiting faces. "I guess the best place to start would be back at the beginning."
Donnia told them everything, from the death of her mother to the strange woman in her dreams. As she spoke she threaded her fingers through her hair, allowing it to dry faster and warm her.
As she finished each person around the fire could barely take their gaze from her. They were enraptured by her, her tale, and everything that had happened to the woman to bring her to them.
Again Mori was the first to speak, "Thank you for feeling comfortable enough with us to share your story. But now you must be exhausted. Come, I'll find you a place to sleep."