Spirits of the Earth

The stars blazed bright in the desert sky. Below them, Haala Aram lay stretched out on her prayer rug, gazing up at the night. In the cool of the night, she'd left the all-covering traveling garb, necessary for protection against the sun during the day, crumpled beside the cream-colored camel laying a few yards away from her, exposing the bright multi-colored clothing underneath; loosely-gathered saffron pants, a bright pink top that left her stomach bare, and a sheer turquoise scarf wrapped loosely around her shoulders and partially over her hair. It would be too chilly soon, but for now the sand was still hot from the day's sun, warming the run beneath her. On the rug to her right was a hand-bound book, half blank, full of maps and star charts and notes and sketches about weather and the sun and the moon that Haala had been keeping herself. She should, right now, be recording what she observed in the stars. But her small, handheld telescope - her most cherished possession and a gift from her beloved grandfather - lay clasped against the exposed skin of her stomach rather than pointed up at the bright stars.

It had been nearly a week now since Haala had left home; alone, save for Faisal, the camel resting not far away. She had made it this far on her own, traveling north through the Moraki Desert, following the stars for guidance and instructions from the caravan people who traded in Essyrn for finding oases containing water and dates. It was exhilarating. It was everything she had ever dreamed of. Haala Aram was going North. She was going to That Great White Land. Where the ground was covered not with sand, but with blankets of Snow and Ice. Where giant white bears and endless herds of thick-furred deer roamed beneath an endless night and dazzling green curtains of light that hung in the air like magic. She was going, and she wasn't looking back.

But, somehow, she couldn't seem to keep her mind from wandering back. Haala didn't regret her decision to leave, especially since staying would have meant marrying that ancient widower, but at the moment she couldn't stop wondering - and worrying - about her family. Amina, she know, would be so worried. Her father, too. Not to mention the embarrassment the whole ordeal would bring on the family. At least she could rest fairly well assured that her own mother, Raana, would not be worried; she might not even notice. And leaving Layla and Amira... Though Layla would be married soon, and Haala assumed it would only be a few years before Amira was married. She hadn't left without any clue. She'd told her grandfather what her plan was; the half-blooded djinn, she knew, would approve of her trouble and adventures. She'd made him promise, though, to tell the rest of the family that she'd left to see the wonder of the Glass Desert so that, if they looked for her, they'd be looking in the wrong place. In another few days, her grandfather would tell them the truth. But by then, Haala hoped, she'd be too far away for them to come after her.

Or for the widower to come after her. He would probably be mad. He wouldn't even receive Haala's dowry. She sold it to buy Faisal. It hadn't been enough to buy a Kaadir, but it had been enough for a camel and Haala was happy to have Faisal by her side. He might be grumpy, he might not always be cooperative, but she liked him. Heaving a short puff of a sigh, she turned her head to look at the camel. "We're doing alright, right, Faisal? Me and you, exploring the desert!"

Faisal, in response, spit.



Haala wasn't the only one on the sands of the Moraki that night with an interest in camels. Faroon, Parsi, and Nod were hard on their luck. They were horse thieves, or camel thieves, or when they were very luck - kaadir thieves. And they had recently been very lucky. They had actually caught a wild kaadir. The trio had already made a deal to sell it to a wealthy young man in Essyrn who fancied the chance to tame his own kaadir - where they had been heading to deliver the goods - when the blasted thing had escaped. And they had already received and spent half of the payment! Which was a problem, now that they had no kaadir to deliver.

"We have to recoup somehow," Parsi whined. "He's going to want his money back and if we can't give it to him..." He made a dramatic gesture, signifying the loss of his hand.

"Well, if you two hadn't spent it all in that dirty brothel," Faroon spit at Parsi and Nod, "there might still be some of it left and we wouldn't be in this position!"

"Oh-ho, is that what you're saying now?" Parsi growled back. "I don't remember you waiting patiently outside, I remember you with a girl on each arm!"

Faroon rounded on Parsi. Faroon was the bigger man and they both knew it. "You shut that dirty mouth of yours, you son of a filty -"

But he was cut off before he could finish his insult. "Hey look!" It was Nod, pointing across a sand dune to something in the distance. "It's a camel! All on its own!"

Faroon pushed Nod aside to look. Sure enough, it was. A healthy-looking one, from here, with a nice creamy white coat. "Well, it's not a kaadir, but if we can sell that to some fool for four times the price..."

The trio made a b-line across the sands. They moved silently now, no longer squabbling. They made their business stealing animals that could spook easily and, while they might be thugs with big mouths, they could be quiet when they needed to be. And however foul their mood had been before spotting the camel, it improved greatly when they saw what had been hidden below the sand dune. Something worth far more than a camel: Haala, alone, watching the stars.

"Well, well," Faroon said loudly, an ugly grin spreading on his features, "what have we here?"

Dirk had wandered a few deserts with Ritousaey. He much preferred the arid heat to the moist, sticky, weight of jungle heat. After leaving Zantaric he had done some menial tasks throughout the Serha Plains, and he had traveled with a couple caravans as well. Not too much fighting, though. A few raiders, but nothing much. It had been a good week now, since he had laid eyes on another person, and he was a little excited to see three men off in the distance. He wasn't all that great at interacting with others, but he hurried forward none the less. The sand barely shifted beneath his booted feet as he ran silently across the dunes.

After he descended and crested a few of the large mounds of sand, he lost sight of the men. A quick search showed signs of their passing however, and he didn't linger to ponder what he would do when he caught them. He didn't consider that he would be a mysterious figure dressed all in black, in a desert. The thought of what they'd think of a hooded and masked figure in the night approaching them, didn't even flicker in Dirk's mind. He was like a giddy child, on his way to faire.

As Dirk finally was catching up to them, he could plainly see that they headed toward a lone camel. There was no sign of any person there, but Dirk's instinct was that an animal, which seemed prepped for travel, would not be alone. Dirk moved forward quickly, but cautiously. These men very likely could be moving into a trap. What better way to snare unwary travelers? A lone mount, sitting on a sand dune. He sensed trouble, and he would be prepared for anything.

He quickly rounded the men and began to approach the camel from a flanking position. It was then that he noticed the camels owner. A young woman, barley clothed. Well at least that's the way Dirk saw it. He had little experience interacting with the fairer sex, and the sight of her brought a blush to his face. If he had a companion to notice this, they would have found it especially ridiculous, as from this distance and angle, there was little to see. After only a moments hesitation, Dirk began to stride up more quickly, and was well within earshot to hear anything that might be said. He darkened the shadows around himself and blended deeper into the night. It was unlikely they would see him there, unless they bumped into him directly. His sense that danger was lurking had not dwindled, even after discovering that the woman would be no threat. Perhaps it was not danger toward the men, but from them.

And then the men saw her. "Well, well," one of them said loudly, an ugly grin spreading on his features, "what have we here?" That was all he needed to hear. He began to creep forward from the left side of the men. Dirk would not let these men hurt her. Whoever she was.

Lulled by the starlight and the wind in the sand, Haala had actually began to drift off, vague thoughts and feelings about her family bleeding into dream and the three camel thieves had already crested the dune by the time she was aware of them. She regained full consciousness with a start when she heard an ugly sounding voice cluck:

"Well, well, what have we here?"

Haala exchanged a wide-eyed look with Faisal, but didn't move. She didn't know what to do if she did move. These men didn't sound particularly friendly, and Haala was hardly a fighter. But she wasn't quite as scared, yet, as she ought to be. In that moment, she was thinking primarily of Faisal. A camel, like any beast of burden, was a valuable thing. Haala had sold her entire dowry to buy the camel! She hadn't yet grasped the men's darker intention. But she didn't only think of Faisal. Quickly, before they could get too close, Haala hid the small brass telescope in the sand. It was a rare device, and worth far more than the camel.

Moving slowly, Haala got to her feet and faced Faroon, Parsi, and Nod. She had intentionally been staying off of the main caravan routes on avoid bandits and raiders and thieves. Most Essyrnis and people of the desert stayed religiously to the main routes, afraid of the djinn and ifrits that were believed to roam the desert. Haala did not fear these. She knew bandits were theoretically a problem, but she didn't expect to find them out here. (The thieves, in fact, had only wandered this far off of the main routes in search of their lost kaadir.) She had been so caught up with the grand adventure of it all, so sure that the desert would protect her, that she hadn't really thought of what she would do if she were faced, as she was now, with three men who meant no good.

She'd have to think fast.

"Wait, gentlemen!" Haala called, holding her hands up for them to stop. "Please, don't come any closer. My camel has been possessed by an ifrit. I brought it out here to exorcise the spirit from it before it could possess the minds of any in my village."

The lie didn't have the best delivery, but the men were superstitious and afraid of the spirits of the desert and stopped short. Parsi and Nod looked visibly worried.

Observing this, Haala continued, faster now. "Please, leave at once, I implore you! The ifrit is mad; it cannot survive inside the mind of a camel alone. An ifrit will always possess a man before a beast. It enters through the eyes. They say once the ifrit possesses you, you can never see a human face again. Only skulls with the wavering burning flame of the soul inside, like a candle."

Haala's eyes were big, her face serious. At that moment, bless his soul, Faisal turned and looked at the thieves. Parsi and Nod jumped back, startled, and adverted their eyes from the camel's gaze, imagining the ifrit lurking behind Faisal's black eyes. Faroon, however, held his ground and crossed his arms. "Then why don't you fear the ifrit, girl?"

"Because I'm a sorceress," Haala answered quickly, as though the answer should be obvious. Haala thanked the stars for her hazel eyes; sorceresses and witches and the like were rumored to have light eyes - greens and blues and, sure, maybe hazel? - rather than the typical dark Essyrni eyes. "My father was a sorcerer and his father before him. I am the last of a line that has long fought to free souls from possession by tormenting djinn and ifrits."

Parsi and Nod began backing away. They were only slightly less afraid of sorceresses than they were of djinn and ifrits and the other restless spirits that wandered the desert.

"Sometimes," Haala continued, getting caught up in her own story now, "a djinn or an ifrit can even be captured and sealed in a lamp or a bottle. Then they can be called upon by their masters as servants and bodyguards. Few sorcerers can do this; my family is one of the only ones." Haala hoped this would come off as a thinly-veiled threat, and she felt rather proud of herself when Nod looked nervously at her supplies and spotted the brass oil lamp there.

"Maybe we should go..." Parsi said cautiously, actively backing away from the girl and her camel. "Before the ifrit enters our eyes..." It was remarkably hard not to look at something you were trying not to look at, and as a result Parsi's eyes were glued to the camel.

"Yeah," Nod agreed, eyes darting between the lamp and the camel. "My uncle was possessed by an ifrit. Rattled his brain. He'd fall to the ground, shaking, spit coming out of his mouth, with no warning."

"You superstitious idiots!" Faroon growled and, before Haala had a chance to respond, closed the space in between them and hit Haala hard across the face. She reeled away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back upright. "A sorceress," he snarled, bringing her face close to his own, "will fetch even more money than a kaadir."

Faisal, observing all of this, spat.

Wrapping the magical shadows tightly around himself, Dirk crept through the encounter. The girl was clever, but it was obvious that the one man was not impressed. As the other two backed away, Dirk dodged between them and rolled behind the camel. They were so engrossed by the young woman's words that the two fools didn't notice the patch of darkness that was even murkier than the night.

As he stood there, behind the camel, where anyone could see him if the shadows weren't at his command, he did a mental inventory of the items he had acquired while traveling. Some darts, a few stink pellets, smoke bombs, a beautiful jeweled scarab pin, various small fireworks, a noise maker, a rattle, and some other strange items a warrior normally wouldn't carry. He liked odd and exotic items. He wasn't sure how any of them would help in this moment. Maybe he could. That might just work. Dirk took careful aim and tossed a smoke grenade to the oil lamp. As the smoke rose from around the lamp, Dirk displayed amazing agility, by leaping up onto the camel and then doing a forward flip through the smoke. With perfect timing as he rolled through the air, he tossed out lit 'crackers', as he was calling them, that made the sound he named them for, as well as each letting out a different colored flash. As he landed he released the shadows around him so that it would appear as if he arrived from the smoke itself.

"YOU DARE TO TOUCH THE MISTRESS OF THE SHADOWS! YOU SHALL BE PUNISHED!" He bellowed in a deep booming voice. He swept out his arms tossing back his cloak in a flourish and threw out a fist full of black powder from a split firework, that he ignited with a small spark maker in his hand. As the quick burst of flame blinded all present, Dirk pulled the shadows in tight again. He Dashed forward, rolled and flung out what the two men would feel was sand and pebbles.

"SMELL THE ROT OF YOUR FLESH AND THE ITCH OF DECAY!" His disembodied voice called out from the shadows. Soon after, the itching powder and stink pellets did their work. The two cowardly men began to itch intensely, and all they could smell was the foul odor, now attached to their own clothes. But these two had not truly been an issue to begin with, so nonlethal means of dealing with them was preferable to Dirk. The other fool however, may not surrender so easily. Dirk now stood right behind the man, close enough that the man should feel his breath on his neck, but he felt nothing. With a breathless whisper, Dirk spoke into the mans ear.

"Flee into the night, or I will feast on your soul."

Parsi and Nod already had one foot out the door - they wanted nothing to do with sorceresses or their ifrit-infested camels - when the smoke bomb hit the oil lamp.

"An ifrit! A djinn!" Parsi hollered. "The lamp, the lamp!" He turned to run but ran immediately into Nod, who was also busy making his escape as the 'boom!' of the crackers went off. The two blundered over each other as the voice spoke, convinced that the girl had released her guardian djinn to torment them.

As soon as the hullabaloo began, Faroon roughly twisted Haala's arm around so that she was pressed with her back tightly against him and a curved, half-rusted knife moved from Faroon's belt to Haala's throat. Faroon's eyes scanned the night, narrow and angry as he watched the imbeciles Parsi and Nod fall over themselves at the slightest provocation. Faroon was not a superstitious man and - whatever their attacker was - he wasn't going to lose this valuable find to it.

"Show yourself, bandits!" he called into the night. "I'm not afraid of 'ifrits' and 'djinn.' So why don't you come out and fight like the man I know you are?"


Haala, meanwhile, didn't know what to think of the booming voice and smoke and firecrackers. Maybe it was a djinn! It might recognize her as the descendent of another djinn and have come to protect her against these marauders? But that was a possibility, whereas the blade at her throat was a very harsh reality. Haala squirmed in the man's grip, but this only resulted in the knife pressing harder against her throat and his arm twisting hers tighter behind her back. She had to think, she had to focus. Maybe she could make him a bit more superstitious than he claimed.

Haala breathed deeply, trying to calm herself and focus her energy. She was not as adept at conjuring fire and heat as her father or grandfather, but she could do it with some difficulty. She closed her eyes and forced herself to think of her grandfather teaching her how to conjure fire in her hands. For him it was an effortless feat, but for his grandchildren it was a challenge, and Haala was the only one able to do it. Following the instructions he'd given her, she thought of the formless being, the restless fire spirit, that had been her ancestor. The shifting of the sands, the burning sun hot in the desert. The blazing sun, the burning sand, the blinding light of the desert...


Faroon was unsettled by the voice in his ear, but he wasn't going to back down now. He jerked away from the voice, moving Haala roughly with him. "Ha!" he barked a forced laugh, squinting in the direct the voice came from. Where was the devil? "Feast on my soul, will you? Hope you have a strong stomach!"

Parsi and Nod were already on the crest of the sand dune now, itching like mad. "Come on" Parsi yelled back to Faroon. "Leave her before the djinn kills you!"

But Faroon just snarled at his companions. Ex-companions. Cowards. He wasn't going to share any of this bounty with them. They could lose two hands each for all he would care. "Come on then," he hissed to the shadow, searching the night for his assailant, "aren't you going to punish me for - What the - "

In that moment, Faroon noticed a heat growing on his chest and, when he tore his eyes away from his invisible enemy to his body, he found growing flames licking up his clothing. In a moment's panic, he threw Haala to the ground, leaving her panting on the warm sand from the effort of conjuring the flame.

"What did you - you witch! - you must have had some - " were Faroon's broken accusations as he struggled to free himself from the flames, finally forced to throw himself to the ground and roll in the sand to extinguish the fire engulfing him.

The fire came, and the vicious fool tossed away his prize, his trump card. He was unguarded as he threw himself into the sand, defensless. It was not an easy decision Dirk made now. Death was not something he could undo. But this man, this thief, he had the potential to be much worse. As he held the blade to the young woman, Dirk feared that this choice would be made. If he did not take care of the man now, he would victimize another down the line.

As the man frantically rolled to put out the flames, Dirk leapt on him. Pinning the criminal's arms to his sides, he looked down into his victims face heedless of the smoldering flames reigniting. Their eyes met, and the man relaxed, he knew it was over. He knew death had come, and he looked without fear into it's face, and Dirk looked back, swallowing his remorse.

"We reap what we sow."

These were the last words Faroon heard before Dirk, with lightning speed, drew his namesake blade and drove it down, angled through his throat to sever the brain stem. He waited for a moment as the light faded from the mans eyes. He pulled his dirk from the corpse and cleaned the blood from it using the dead mans shirt. "Requiescat in pace," he said for the now departed soul, then stood, turning toward the young woman.

"Introductions can wait. We need to move. Fire attracts bandits, and blood, scavengers and predators." He then reached for the camels harness.

Faisal, in response to this, spat.

Haala Aram had never seen someone be killed before. Chickens, goats, sheep... but not another person. Not a man. Her eyes as big as the moon, still in shock from manhandling, she stood stock still and stared at Dirk, and then at the spreading darkness of the man's blood on the sand. Yes, he had scared her and no, she didn't guess that he was probably a very nice man... but he had still been a man. And now he wasn't.

"Introductions can wait. We need to move. Fire attracts bandits, and blood, scavengers and predators."

Dirk's words snapped Haala back into the present and her eyes, still wide with shock, flashed to the stranger who had interceded on her behalf. At first she didn't move, just watched him like a mouse staring at a snack. But no. Of course, he was right. They had to move. Once she found she could move again, Haala hurried to her prayer rug and dug her telescope out from the sand. Carefully, probably taking longer than the man would prefer, she removed the sand from the creases and lens of the instrument. Once she was satisfied, she dropped the small telescope into the deep pocket of her loose pants and rolled up the rug. Dirk and Faisal were already moving as she tied the rug back onto the camel's load.

Though she wasn't sure who – or what – he was, Haala followed Dirk. Though she took Faisal's lead from him. Whatever he was, he had undeniably helped her... and if he was actually a spirit of the desert who would whisk her away? Well, Haala didn't have a plan for that yet. She walked beside him quickly, occasionally looking over her shoulder back in the direction of the skirmish, for a long while before she spoke. As they moved farther away, their pace naturally slowed and for the first time, Haala raised a hand to touch the bruise already coming up on her cheek.

"I think he would have run away," she finally said, breaking the silence, her voice quiet but heavy.

Dirk did not answer Haala immediately. he was scanning the darkness for shadows that were darker than the night. He was looking along the horizon for holes in stars that should not be there. He was ever vigilant. Without looking at the young woman he had perhaps saved, he spoke one word.

"Yes," he said. The monosyllable word came out short and curt, cut off by internalization of his remorse at the death.

He continued in silence for a short while before continuing. Dirk was not sure how to interact with Haala, what attitude he should take. Most of his time with other mortals had been business dealings. Men on caravans and other bodyguards did not try to speak to the mysterious stranger. Sometimes the occasional child was curious enough to ask questions about his being wrapped all in black, even on the hottest of days, but parents usually pulled them away before any answer could be given.

"You were not likely his first victim," he finally added. "Had he lived, you would not have been his last. The Death of their cohort will likely deter the other two cowards from continuing without him." Again his words were flat, and cold.

Dirk was sure he probably sounded much too business like about the whole thing, but he didn't know how else to behave. He was aware of the shortcoming though, so he tried his best to amend the previous comments with personal commentary. Though in hindsight he would feel that the addition was just as cold, and perhaps more awkward. He did not realize that it was his tone of voice that would make the difference. Speaking without emotion did not send the sort of messages that would be taken as friendly.

"It was regrettable but necessary," he finished, spoken like a tax collector about the lives of men.

Haala touched her throat where the man's knife had been, thinking about the strange man's words. She hadn't honestly thought about whether the man would go on to hurt someone else, or if he had hurt someone else before. Maybe he had, maybe he would. But maybe he hadn't, and maybe he wouldn't. Haala didn't think it was another man's place to decide whose death was necessary and whose was not.

Maybe he wasn't a man. She cast a sidelong glance at her strange, silent new companion, wondering. What if he was an ifrit or a djinn or one of the many shape-changing spirits oft he desert? And he'd killed a man, but he had done it to protect her. Or so it seemed. All the sudden, this adventure was getting bigger and bigger.

Haala heaved a sigh, then stepped around Faisal, ducking to avoid his spit, and rounded on Dirk, stopping directly in front of him, just on the edge of his personal space. "Well, whether or not I agree with you, thank you," she said, a tad too formally. It was clear she wasn't happy with his explanation, but was trying to lay the matter aside. Having delivered her formal thank-you-apology, Haala's posture relaxed a little, and she looked Dirk over, a bit skeptically. "What are you?" she asked him suddenly, a little too directly, but not quite confrontational. Dirk wasn't the only one who could be a tad socially awkward. "Are you an ifrit? Or something? Or are you just a very peculiar man?"

Dirk stopped at Haala's approach. He was not sure what the tone in her voice meant, so he took her thanks at face value, and left it at that. Her question of what he was intrigued him, especially with the offering that he might be an ifrit. He had met some in the past, and he did not think they would have done that which he had. They weren't the most altruistic sort.

"I am," he paused a beat in thought, "a man." His face scrunched and his head quirked at the complexity of the answer he knew she was actually looking for. Yes, he was a man. A man that was physically twenty, but had lived much longer. He was aging at a regular pace now that he was no longer traveling with Ritousaey, Rit had explained that to him well. But the time of his experience was longer than that. He had special training, magical items, he wasn't just a man.

"But it's not that simple," he pulled down his hood and his mask revealing his young, handsome face. Strong features with a touch of boyishness lingering in his cheeks. Short, unkempt, golden hair, though tussled, had a pretty sheen. Without the mask and hood, his eyes looked less piercing, more inviting. His mother, a worn out, tired looking prostitute, had been a great beauty in her better days. The nameless unknown man that had fathered him, probably had contributed to Dirk's good looks as well. "As you see, I am a young man of twenty winters. But with the help of," he was not sure what to call Rit's powers and paused again, awkwardly, "magic," the word came out more question than statement, "I have seen the passage of at least fifty years."

He pulled the hood back up then, but left the mask hanging around his neck. He could replace it quickly enough should he have the need. Having his hood down made him feel exposed. The magic of the cloak did not work without it drawn over his head. But from previous experiences, he found people liked to be able to see his face while they were engaged in conversation, though there had not been many of those. With Rit there had been no spoken words. Rit passed his words directly into Dirk's mind and knew the response as Dirk thought it. Speaking was only done with people they came across during lessons.

Now that she could see his face, he gave her the answer that would really satisfy her inquiry. "My name is Dirk. I was taught and trained by an immortal being with unlimited power. It's a long and complex tale. He made me magical items to give me an edge against those that have the free use of magic. As a rule, I collect anything that may be useful in solving problems of varying kinds. I am an extremely skilled combatant and I am heavily armed." His words were said in his usual business like tone. But as outlandish, or intimidating as they might be, the camel at least, was not impressed.

Haala might be a dreamer, but this man seemed crazy. It wasn't his answer, per se. Haala had listened to - and believed - much more fantastic stories than what Dirk offered. After all, there were some people who didn't even believe in the djinn! It was more something about his delivery. It seemed a bit like he was making it up as he went along. His whole demeanor was... off somehow. She wondered if he wasn't some sort of creature just pretending to be a man, but didn't quite have the routine down yet.

"Alright," she agreed, slowly nodding her head. Though she thought she was being diplomatic, the mix of bemusement and skepticism was fairly clear on her face. "I suppose that was a very thorough answer... Well, I'm Haala," she offered by way of telling him that his story was acceptable for now. She turned to keep walking, but stayed next to Dirk rather than returning to the other side of Faisal.

"What were you doing out here, anyway?" she asked after awhile, mostly to fill the silence. "Most people stick to the caravan routes. Too afraid of djinn and the like. That's part of why I've been traveling through the open desert. I supposed it's safer. I'm not sure what those... those men were doing out here."

She pulled Faisal's reigns to the east and looked back over to Dirk. "If you're sticking with us, we need to bear northeast a bit. There are hoodoos that way - at least, if my maps are right - and it'll be a good place to shelter from the sun. We've just been in the open desert for a few days, so I think Faisal and I are due for a break from the sun." She gave a meaningful look to Dirk's fair skin. "And you probably need it, anyway."

"Who dew?" The word was not immediately obvious to Dirk, "Who do, hoo do. Ah, hoodoo. I assume you mean geological formations and not primitive folk magic." Dirk veered as Haala did and he pulled the mask back up as they walked side by side. "The sun will not harm me, but I do find the lack of cover somewhat unsettling. I'll be happier somewhere I can hide in the shadows more easily." He obediently followed, without another thought, leaving almost no footprints in the soft sand.

"As for my purpose here in the desert," Dirk said, picking up the conversation a few moments later, "I have none. I was merely wandering aimlessly. I pick up work as I go, and explore the lands. I visited many exotic locations with my mentor, but we did not explore this world during this era. It is pleasant to visit the many sights of my native world and time." Although he spoke of pleasantness, his tone, once again, did not reflect his emotions. A side glance at Haala's exposed flesh made him blush again though, and he hoped that she would not notice him looking.

As they walked, Dirk noticed a dark displacement to the sand near some vegetation ahead. His hand snapped out with lightning speed, sending a weapon from his sleeve to his target. The precision of his flung dagger was perfect and the snake that was waiting there in the night was impaled through its skull. The two and a half foot venomous horned snake would make a decent meal, and killing it before Faisal stepped on it was a positive note as well.

"Yes," Haala confirmed, again glacing skeptically at Dirk, and her tone was shifting just slightly to the tone one might use to talk to a slow person, "I mean the towers and mushrooms of rock that grow in the desert. I don't know how much shelter 'primitive folk magic' would provide us."

Really, he was like talking to an encyclopedia! And Haala's impression didn't entirely improve when he described his purpose in the desert and his former travels. She listened politely as he described traveling through other times and places, mostly quiet but with the odd 'hmm' or nod thrown in. Haala knew that she was, herself, a little stranger – her sisters had certainly told her often enough – but she was pretty sure her eccentricities paled in comparison to this strange man who seemed to feel the need to mask his face even when traveling at night in the desolate desert with only a young woman. Maybe all the people from the forested lands to the north, where she guessed Dirk originated, were so strange. But then, she'd met plenty of travelers and traders from Adela and Serendipity in Essyrn whose social graces didn't leave quite as much to be desired. Maybe, Haala suddenly thought, the poor fool's mind had been invaded by an ifrit, just like she'd warned the horse thieves against. It was known to happen, and could have left the young man's brain addled without his even being aware of it.

Haala was wondering whether this might be the case, how to discover the truth, and how she might help him when she spotted the snake ahead. Half a second before both she and Faisal turned to avoid it, Dirk's knife flew from his hand into the snake's head. Haala stopped stock still and stared at the splayed open skull of the snake, her eyes widening. It might seem to Dirk that she was frozen in fear, as though she hadn't seen the serpent and was terrified at the thought and sight of it. But that notion would be dispelled as soon as she moved, whirling around on him.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded, her voice a hiss. "Do you not know anything other than how to kill!" It was an accusation, not a question. Haala exhaled sharply, throwing her arms up and then looking away from Dirk, waiting for patience to return to her. After several moments, she looked back at him. The anger on her face was still clear as day, but her tone was more controlled, if her words were a little too pointed. "Look, it was one thing with that man back there. Maybe you were right: he might have been a wicked person and his death might have been warranted. But the snake is a creature of the desert, guilty of nothing outside of its nature. It belong here more than either of us, and if you can't respect that, you don't belong out here at all. Snakes are dangerous, yes; they have to be treated with respect. But if they are respected, they won't harm you. Even a big snake like this one," she gestured to the bloody remains of the serpent, "feeds on rats and hares. Not humans and certainly not camels.  Faisal and I are actually from the desert. We know not to tread on a snake. And if you're going to carry on killing every living thing we come across, you can go straight back to 'wandering aimlessly' through the desert. I hope the snake is faster than you are, next time!"

Dirk was a little shocked by Haala's response, and he was unsure of what his reaction should be. Clearly his killing of the snake had offended her. Or perhaps it was simply the act of killing that she did not like. He was not a blood thirsty killer, and he certainly did not enjoy the snakes death. He was simply accustomed to fending for himself. Ritousaey did not coddle him. The death of the snake would keep it from harming a Haala or any other traveler, but that was his secondary thought. The reality was that he hadn't eaten in a few days, and while eating was not necessary for him, it did start to feel strange not to.

"Actually, I haven't seen many other animals out here besides Faisal," he said lowering his mask again. "I am used to killing my meals, and I'm sure you'd rather I not eat your camel. Plus I figured a snake that size would fill both our bellies." Words like this might be heard as sour or sarcastic if said the right way. In Dirk's all business monotone, they simply sounded like facts. And that's precisely what they were. Facts that Dirk had observed and used to make his decision. "If you do not wish to eat the snake, that is your prerogative."

"Oh-ho, you'll have to eat me first before you lay a hand on Faisal," Haala retorted, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes at Dirk to let him know that - lots of fancy-shmancy armor and weapons or not - she was not afraid of him. Still, though she probably meant it, there was a softer and almost playful note in the gesture. Almost. Haala wasn't ready to abandon principle yet. She left her arms crossed when she answered, with an obvious note of moral superiority, "I won't, thank you very much. And you wouldn't either, if you knew what was good for you. There are animals that are fine to kill and eat in the desert, but the snake isn't one of them. Snakes are powerful, quick and sharp, and it's very bad luck to kill one. Much less to eat it!"

Haala looked at the dead snake, and then back at Dirk with disgust that might have been a bit exaggerated. Again a very faint glimmer of playfulness in her overdone posture. Once she felt satisfied that she had made her point, she huffed and unfolded her arms to push her bangs out of her face, then looked at Dirk with suspicious curiosity. "So you said you're just 'wandering the desert' looking for odd-jobs, didn't you? Is that what I am, then? You're waiting for me to pay you for killing that man?"

Dirk's left eyebrow rose as a quisical expression grew on his face. Not much of an emotional response, but for him it was quite a lot. He was taken a bit off guard by Haala's questioning retort. Of course he did not expect compensation for doing what was the right thing to do. He hadn't even considered it.

"I meant no offense, and expect no payment." His attempt at a sincere tone was a bit exaggerated and would probably be taken as condescending if his voice hadn't cracked from the strain. He blushed violently, which was likely visible by the brightness of the stars. He looked down quickly pulling up the mask that he had left around his neck, hoping Haala did not notice his embarrassment. Facing an army alone seemed less of a challenge than facing a beautiful woman whose anger, whether feigned or not, made her more alluring.

“Hm.” Haala’s eyes scrutinized Dirk, her look skeptical and hard, hands on her hips. (Or as hard as she could manage). Her eyes only narrowed in further suspicion when the strange man - if that was, indeed, what he was - pulled the mask back over his face. It wasn’t that Haala didn’t believe him; she did. At least, he’d given her no reason so far not to. But even if he was wandering the desert looking for odd-jobs (an odd place to look!) and searching for random good deeds to do, it didn’t explain why Dirk was still with her. Maybe, she thought, he viewed her safe delivery at her destination as an extended good deed. Was he in for a surprise if that was his plan! Haala’s destination was far, far away. Or, maybe, he was simply lonely. He certainly didn’t act like he spent too much time in the company of other human beings. Whatever his motives, she could tell that her scrutiny was making him squirm, so she kept it up for a few moments longer than she otherwise would have. After all, she was still mad over the senseless killing of the snake. (She couldn’t let him stay with her if he kept up foolish antics like that! Snakes were powerful creatures, and the spirits of the desert would not look kindly upon their death).

Finally, Haala released him from her gaze and relaxed her critical posture a little. “Well, alright. And just as well, as I haven’t anything to pay you with. So you can forget that if you’re hoping that now that I’ve seen how deadly you are,” she wasn’t using the word as a compliment, “that I’ll hire you as a guide or anything like that. I’m very grateful for your help back there, but I can take care of myself.” This was, perhaps, not entirely true. But if Haala was aware of that, she wasn’t going to admit it now. “And Faisal.”

She gave a little huff, then turned from Dirk to set about properly arranging Faisal’s pack after the hasty job she’d done while they were fleeing the scene of the fight with the slavers. She set about adjusting knots and shifting burdens, completely ignoring Dirk’s presence. When she was done, she pulled on the long, beige linen travel robes and wrapped the solid linen scarf loosely over her head, covering the sheer, bright turquoise one beneath. In the depths of night, the desert could get deceptively cold and the robes which provided protection from the sun during the day, doubled as protection from the cold at night. Once she was done, without any attention to Dirk, she took the camel’s lead, and set off to the northeast, towards the shelter and the mystery of the hoodoos.

Only after she’d traveled a few meters did she turn back to Dirk and call, “If you want to come with us, you better leave that snake behind.” Despite her behavior, Haala hoped he did come. Not because she thought she needed the protection! But because - as exciting as this adventure was - Haala was used to living in a city, in a crowded home with her large family and, as much as she loved Faisal, she wouldn't mind the company. Even if it was rather strange company, indeed.

Dirk hesitated for a moment. Haala was not very professional in her interaction with him, and that made him feel a bit awkward since he wasn't very good at social behavior. Something poking at the back of his mind though, insisted that he should continue on with her. Rit would have said it was the driving force created by the writer that no puppet could refuse, whatever the hell that meant. He didn't question that Rit was always right, he just barely understood most of his babbling. Dirk had come to think of the voice, and the nagging feelings, and the itch at the base of his skull, and all the other ticks and tingles, as his own intuition. A sixth sense that he'd honed through his journey's with Ritousaey. He had learned early on that he should pay attention to these feelings. They saved his life a number of times, and he found that fighting or ignoring them would often just get him in deeper danger.

Well if Dirk was gonna follow her, he had to pass on eating the snake. Rit had taught him never to be wasteful, and to always honor anything he killed, from a blade of grass to a man. With Haala's feelings about it though, he made the best of the situation. He removed his blade from the beast, gave a small prayer to the Creator, and left the snake for the carrion to find. As he caught up with his new companion, he lowered the mask again. He couldn't get over the thought that it might be rude to hide his face. He was not totally sure though.

Haala smiled to herself as Dirk loped after her and Faisal to catch up. But she wouldn’t let Dirk see it. Instead, when he had caught up and drew along side her, Haala looked coolly at the strange man, though her eyes lingered for a moment on his unmasked face. “Well, alright,” she said, aloof, “I suppose you can travel with us for awhile. You seem like you could use some help out here in the desert, anyway.”

Then Haala turned her gaze back to the night, and carried on in silence. Though she would never admit it - especially not to the man in question! - she felt considerably more comfortable with Dirk beside her. Now that the initial spat was over, Haala had the space to think about what had happened back there with the slavers. What could have happened. It made her feel rather small out here under the great big night sky, in the endless sea of sand. Now that she wasn’t alone, the small feeling wasn’t necessarily frightening. But if she were alone? If she’d escaped those men (she didn’t let her thoughts linger on if she hadn’t escaped) and fled into the night on her own, Haala realized she would be very frightened now indeed. Frightened enough to turn around? To go back to Essryn and whatever awaited her there? Well, probably not that scared.

Still. Haala cast the odd sidelong, curious look at Dirk as they walked through the silence of the night. It was shaping up to be a bit of an adventure, wasn’t it? She’d had a brush with bandits and escaped, and now she’d befriended (or something!) a mysterious, shadowy man (or something!) who at least seemed to be interested in her protection. And who knew, maybe he wasn’t a man… maybe he was some sort of enchanted man! Or some sort of spirit… Or a mix! Like her grandfather. She wondered how long he’d stay with them. If the travelers’ tales were true, eventually she knew she would have to leave Faisal behind. It would be nice to not go through the entire adventure on her own. And what a story it would be! Haala knew she was getting ahead of herself, that she should be more careful, more cautious, and less trusting. But she couldn’t help it; it was so exciting! Oh, Haala could hear what her sisters would say now. What a fool she was, what a child.

And, however much she might have always dismissed their assessment of her, thinking of it now sent a pang of homesickness in Haala’s stomach. What must they be thinking now? Were they worried? Would Haala ever see them again? However good of a start it was to a story, somewhere inside her, Haala knew that, in reality, breaking an engagement and running away from a marriage was not a light matter. Even if she wanted to, could she go back to Essryn now? With the extra feeling of security provided by the strange shadow warrior, Haala let her thoughts drift as they walked… to her family, her sisters and grandfather, to Amina and Raana and Kamiza, her father and the workshop where she helped him craft his precious metals… but also to the North: the vast lands of grass and trees that lay ahead, the mountains, the distant, pale-skinned kingdoms... and finally to The North and the dancing lights and “snow” and ice bears and all of her dreams…

***

The sun still hidden behind the horizon, a pre-dawn glow was just beginning to light the desert when Haala and Dirk finally reached the threshold of the what appeared to be a vast landscape of hoodoos. Haala paused. It was so much more expansive than Haala had imaged - the whole world was, perhaps - that her eyes widened in wonder. Red, sunkist rocks rose from the desert like a forest of stone mushrooms (http://cdn.c.photoshelter.com/img-get/I0000ygjMj48lalo/s/700/751000007-goblin-valley-state-park-utah.jpg) (not that Haala had ever seen a live mushroom) and even greater stone formations loomed on the horizon. They might travel through this landscape for days. Haala’s felt a flutter of thrill in her stomach. She looked up at dirk, unable to keep the excitement from her eyes, curious if the landscape had any effect on him.

Haala tugged on Faisal’s lead to restart the camel, ignoring his brief protestation, taking everything in as she continued on slowly. Leading the two, man and camel, into the stone forest for a bit, Haala finally stopped when they passed a larger rock formation with a west-northwest/east-southeast orientation: perfect for sheltering from the fierce desert sun. She didn’t explain herself as she led the camel to the cool sand of the north side of the formation. Shrugging off the covering, white linen robes, Haala tossed them aside in a bundle and went about the task of removing Faisal’s burden. This took a few minutes and, when she was done and the bundle moved to rest against the rock, Haala took out her prayer rug and spread it in the shadow of the stone. At first she frowned at it, feeling a bit guilty; she hadn’t actually prayed in a few days. For a moment she considered whether or not she ought to now, but the truth was that after several days of trekking through the desert, Haala was worn out. So, after a moment’s consideration, she flopped unceremoniously down onto the rug instead and stretched out.

After a few moments of enjoying her collapse, Haala peered up at Dirk, acknowledging him now for the first time in awhile. “You’re not going to stay in that clunky armor all day, are you? This is our chance to relax!” In part, Haala was just curious to see what exactly was beneath that armor. Even when he wasn’t wearing the mask, she wasn’t entirely convinced yet that Dirk was a man as he claimed to be. (Though how she would differentiate, who knew). She rolled over onto her side, then, and propped herself up on an elbow, looking at Dirk a bit more curiously again. “So I know you said you were just wandering about doing good deeds, or so, but how did you end up wanderingaroundodinggooddeeds down here? It’s a funny get-up for the desert,” she quipped, nodding to the cloak and armor, managing not to add that it didn't seem very practical wear, “and you don’t see very many in anything similar. Even on the other northerners who travel down from time to time.”


((Umm... Sorry this is so epically long. ^^; That's what you get for being my only active thread!))

Dirk looked down at his sleek black leather armor. It was like a second skin to him. Clunky? It didn't make a sound, and didn't impede his movements in the slightest. How was that clunky? Perhaps that was just her way of pointing out that he stood out as a foreigner in his current attire. Only problem was, he couldn't change it's color with a wave of his hand like Rit could. It had been a few days since he had bathed though, and he didn't like to retain odor in case he found himself upwind of a threat.

"The other northerners that travel down here," he said to Haala, "come prepared for the sun and heat." He pulled back his hood, the darkness around him becoming less as he did so. His short blonde hair, only long enough to lay flat on his head, was a bit mussed from being under the hood so much. He unpinned it from around his neck and set it next to Haala. Next he pulled off his mask and shoved it into the sack on his back. Then the small gray pack, that had been concealed under the cloak, came off next, and he tossed it onto the ground by the cloak.

"I'm not bothered by the weather," he continued as he began to undo the leather straps of his armor, "and I don't have to worry about eating or drinking. Wandering through an arid desert or frozen tundra poses no threat to me." He undid his scabbards and belt and slid them into the pack, which clearly was magical, as there was no other explanation for how they fit. Dirk slipped his feet from inside his supple leather boots, and put them in the pack next. Then he pulled off his armor and put it in the sack as well. Throughout the entire process, he removed many throwing daggers that were hidden, for quick and easy access, all over his person. If Haala had been counting, the number would have been upward of twenty-five.

He was now standing in coverings, made of a thin, nearly translucent, beige fabric. The shirt, a short sleeved tunic, laced up the sternum to his clavicle, was snug against his muscled chest and biceps. The rest of his arm, up to a few inches from his wrist were wrapped in strips of the same fabric. His short pants, had a drawstring at the waist, and also tied a few inches below his knees. The rest of his legs and his feet were wrapped in the same strips of fabric as his arms, leaving only his toes exposed.

"It has been a few days since I've bathed," he said simply, though he gave off no noticeable aroma, "if anyone should approach while I am gone, put on my cloak, pull up the hood, and once its pinned speak the word 'styx'. Then hide in there." He pointed to a dark crook in the wall, not likely to hide anyone well at all, especially with the sun rising, if they didn't have his cloak. Dirk then reached into his pack and pulled out the kukri he normally wore on the small of his back and set it by Haala before wandering off to find a suitable spot to set up his shower.

Aha! So he wasn't a man. No man could say that he didn't need food or drink. Haala had to admit that he looked like a man, however, and she watched him unabashedly as he removed layer after layer of covering. Though many things could look like a man, and Haala certainly wasn't convinced. But she frowned a little at his answer to her questions. She hadn't really been interested in his outfit... well, she was a little interested in it, she supposed, but what she'd really been hoping for was an explanation of why he was here. Hopefully attached to some story or adventure! The open desert was an odd place to wander looking for tasks. Surely he would find more in the cities, or on the trading routes, or in whatever lands he came from. Maybe he was an outlaw! And had been driven away from his home. An outlaw and an enchanted spirit? Why not? But if he was an outlaw, what was he doing with her? That seemed to be the persistent question, and she wondered again if she ought to trust him.

But then Haala realized that he was explaining to her what to do while he was gone and that he hadn't bathed and.... where was he going to bathe? And, more importantly, how? "Wait, but where are you going?" she asked, picking herself up a bit more, but Dirk had already set off. Curiosity winning out over weariness, Haala leapt up as soon as Dirk had disappeared around the rock. Then, forgetting his warnings already, she climbed a quarter of the way up a ledge on the rock formation, just high enough to peak over and - uninvited - spy on Dirk as he set about to somehow 'bathe' out here in the hoodoos.

Dirk found a suitable place not far around the corner at all. He walked perhaps 90 yards before spotting a place with the appropriately slanted slab ground, and a rocky enough wall that he could wedge objects into it. He reach into his grey satchel and pulled out a large piton, that he drove into the wall with a climbers hammer he pulled out shortly after. From this piton he hung the bag, making it easier to work with both hands. He retrieved a hanging mirror from the sack and hung it from another piton he drove in next to the first. Next he pulled out a flask, and using the hammer, he gently wedged the flask into the wall a few feet from the hanging pack. Dirk returned the hammer to the bag and removed from it a small block of glycerine soap, a large basin, and a washboard. He hung the washboard on the side of the wooden basin, and then pulled two stones from the pack, one flint and one obsidian, and placed them in the basin as well. When he unstoppered the flask and spoke the words 'tansui sutoriimu' water began to pour out of it at a fairly rapid pace. He filled the basin and after setting it down, stood within the streaming water, letting it soak over his entire body, then saying 'teishi', stopping the flow.

Dirk finally began to wash, quickly lathering his soap over the now fully translucent clothing he was wearing. When the shirt and arm wrappings were thoroughly soaped, he removed them, dropping them into the basin. Next he lathered the pants and leg wrappings and then removed them, tossing them in the basin as well. He squatted by the tub of water, now in the buff, and began using the washboard to clean his fine linen garments. When Dirk felt his clothing was fully clean, he draped it all across his shoulders. He placed the washboard on the slab of rock he was standing on and the two stones, which seemed to be steaming now, on top of the board. He dumped the hot soapy water over his head and tossed his clothing back in the basin once it was on the ground. Now he lathered his entire body, and once fully sudsed up, 'tansui sutoriimu' started the water flowing again. He fully rinsed his hair, and his hands, only to stop the water again. From his bag, he pulled a small pair of scissors that he used to trim his hair in the mirror. He returned them to the bag when he was done and then pulled a straight razor from the bag, he used to shave his stubbled face clean.

A shave and a haircut, cheaper than two bits, and Dirk started the water flowing again. The water ran over him, cold, giving him goosebumps. Temperature wasn't a threat to him, but that didn't mean he didn't feel it. One of his multitude of magical trinkets protected him from the negative effects, which allowed him to enjoy this cold shower, without risk of hypothermia. Bathing was a vice for him. Every three days, a week at the longest. Longer than that and he'd go mad. As the water took his clips of hair, and suds away, down the slightly slanted slab of rock, Dirk rinsed his clothing thoroughly, and replaced it on his body. Once he had the linen garments back on, and the long strips were wrapped around his arms and legs, he finished cleaning his things and stopped the water. All the items went back into the bag, and the hammer came back out to be used in the gentle removal of the flask. He left the pitons in the wall, and before slinging his pack over his shoulder, he pulled out his belt and grappling hook along with some low ankled cleats.

Dirk stepped into the cleats, and then unwound his belt, attaching one end to the grappling hook. What had looked like a simple belt, turned out to be magic, and was now a fifty foot cord of rope. A few good swings of the grappling hook, and Dirk had it sailing up to the top of the rock formation he was at the base of. Strong tugs convinced him it was snug and would support his weight, and the word 'uzbrdica' made the rope rigid. Hand holds appeared for Dirk, and he quickly scaled the rocks. At the top, with the quickly rising sun already heating the desert, Dirk would quickly dry. He pulled up the rope, changing it back to a belt again, and headed back to where he had left Haala. Hopping across the hoodoos could have made it a quick, straight path, if some weren't so far apart that he had to make a circuitous route. No matter, he needed the time to dry.

Haala's mouth fell open when she saw Dirk bathing. Not because he was a naked, bathing man - though she couldn't pretend to have no interest in that matter - but because he had so much water. And look how he was wasting it! Even at home where there were wells and you knew where your water was coming from, you didn't just it so thoughtlessly! And where had it come from? And why was he hiding it? Surely he must be, or why would he go so far away to bathe in it? Haala supposed that perhaps he was trying to hide from her ire at the waste of it (surely he couldn't be quite so shy as to go so far to hide his nudity - not that he'd succeeded). Or perhaps he was hoarding it for himself. And that might be understandable if he were saving his drinking water for himself - but bathing? Really!

Haala pulled herself up, sitting on a ledge in the rock with her feet swinging below her and watched Dirk make his way back to her and Faisal. The rock was cool, but warming, and felt nice to rest against. She made no effort to hide herself or pretend that she hadn't been spying on him. As he drew into earshot, she called out to him.

"That was a nice trick making that bath for yourself. It certainly looked relaxing," she quipped, her voice a bit accusing and hoping a little to embarrass him. "It seems like an awful waste of water. Though I suppose you can do whatever you like with the supplies that are yours."

"A waste of water?" Dirk was genuinely confused. He had lost his concept of poverty. When he was a small boy, he had had nothing but what he could scavenge. Spending such a long time with Ritousaey, and having an abundance of everything, had made his youth a distant memory. The flask was an endless supply of water. Letting it fall on the ground and wash away didn't seem like a problem to him at all. After his moment of confusion about the waste of resources, he realized what she had said before that and what all of it meant. She had been watching him bathe. He blushed at the indecent thoughts that aroused in him, hoping she liked what she saw. He shyly cast his eyes at the ground and reached into his sack to fetch out the flask.

"Would you like to use it?" He held the flask out to her as he approached her. He was mostly dry now, the rising sun quickly heating the desert.

"The water that comes out never ends," it still had not dawned on him that water was a valuable commodity in the sand country, "I can teach you how to activate it."

Haala felt a bit pleased with herself when the blush spread across Dirk's face, though she wasn't entirely sure why. Everything had, thus far, been something of a struggle with this man. And she appreciated every upper-hand she could get. At least, that's what she told herself. But once Dirk explained about his 'never-ending' flask of water, the pleased look was quickly replaced by one of suspicion. Warily, she took the flask from him and began to slowly inspect it.

"But everything comes from somewhere," Haala protested as she turned the flask over in her hand. "Even if water always comes out of the flask here, you don't know where it comes from and everything must come from somewhere. Maybe whoever made it enchanted it so that it would tap into a well far away, and the water comes from there. Maybe the well was standing by itself somewhere when it was enchanted, but now there's a village built up around it, and this flask takes its water from their village. It probably even has a name... Parsia, maybe. You can believe that no one in Parsia wastes water like that, even if they're right next to the well."

The truth was, Haala simply could not imagine an endless supply of water that could be used without consequence. Of course the river in Essryn always flowed, but even its water was carefully managed to irrigate crops and sustain fisheries. She had heard that there were other places where water was abundant, so abundant you might just waste it like Dirk had and Haala supposed she believed it, but in a very academic way. She was going to need to see it for herself before she really believed it.

But on the other hand, an 'endless' supply of water in the desert (if it was really endless)... Haala couldn't pretend she didn't understand what a great treasure that was. Surely the people of Parsia would share their water for practical purposes.

"No," Haala finally declared after silent consideration, "I don't think you can use it for bathing anymore. It isn't responsible. But I think it's okay if we use it for drinking and cooking and," she glanced over to Faisal, who spat, "for thirsty camels."

Well of course it came from somewhere. Like Haala said, everything came from somewhere. It just didn't come from this world. Using it for bathing was only one use. Dirk used it for cooking and cleaning, and of course drinking.

"Uh, it really is endless," he explained, "the water comes from another world. A magic world made of water." Dirk took the flask from Haala and uncorked it but nothing came out. He turned, aiming it back the way they had originally come, and took a sturdy stance.

"Tansui no kanketsusen," as soon as he said the words, a powerful geyser shot forth from the flask. Even braced, Dirk slid back on the sandy terrain. "Teishi," his second command stopped the water and he replaced the cork before tossing it back to Haala. He silently wondered how she would handle an adventure with Rit. He could literally create anything from thin air, be it food or riches. Water seemed a simple thing to Dirk. When Rit had taken him to Mizu, the magical plain of water the flask was connected to, he had been astonded. An entire world that existed fully submerged.

"The water comes from a world that is home to water elementals," he told her, "creatures that can create water from nothing." Dirk moved then to begin removing his armor and weapons from his bag. He was not fond of being without them. Rit had made him practice constant vigilance.

Haala folded her arms and looked supremely unimpressed and skeptical at Dirk's explanations (or excuses!) about why it was 'fine' to use the water indiscriminately. Haala was clearly not convinced. And she was also not prepared for the geyser that suddenly shot forth from the flask; Haala jumped nearly a foot into the air and just as far backwards with surprise at the sudden gush of water. Haala caught the flask and stared at it with wide-eyed wonder.

"Well, maybe," she said, paying  much more attention now to the flask than to Dirk, "but I still think we should be careful with it. You never know..."

Despite her words, what Haala really wanted to do was figure out how the flask worked. How it really worked. She held it upsidedown, staring into the open flask as no water came out. Then she held it in front of her again and did her best to parrot the words Dirk had spoken.

"Tan soo no can cat Susan," she muttered to the flask. Apparently, though she'd gotten the words wrong, they came out close enough, because the geyser of water erupted again, knocking Haala off her feet. She was sitting flattened in the sand now, holding on desperately to the flask, with buckets of water falling back down on her from the geyser. Of course now that she'd started it, she couldn't begin to remember the words to stop it!

"Gah! Get -" she gurgled through mouthfuls of water, " - help - mrk - get it -" she spat out a mouthful of water, then finally managed, "MAKE IT STOP!"

Dirk leaped into action, luckily he was still wearing his cleats, or the wet sand would have stuck to his freshly laundered foot wraps. Nobody wants sand in their clothes. He got close enough to the flask that it would accept his command and made it stop.

"Teishi, the word you need to stop it is teishi. It's Japanese, a language not of this world." He smirked, he couldn't help it. Haala was on her back, soaked to the bone, and covered in wet sand. It was a rather amusing sight. He offered his hand to her. She likely did not wish to remain in the mess she had just created.

"I promise not to peek if you now wish to clean yourself in the same location I did. I can even lend you my soap and wash basin if you like." He would thoroughly explain how to use the flask, if she chose to. All that sand would quickly become uncomfortable, she'd likely want to get it out of her hair and garments.

Haala quickly released the flask, tossing it unceremoniously at Dirk's feet the moment the water stopped. She wasn't really listening to what he was saying, preoccupied instead with recovering from the sudden deluge that she'd brought down upon herself. In fact, she'd already stripped down to her bra and underwear when she'd heard Dirk's last offer.

"Peek at what?" she asked, oblivious. Essryni culture was, as a rule, less prudish than the pale people of the north, and Haala was no exception. (Remembering before it was too late that Dirk had felt it necessary to hide his own nudity, however, Haala stopped there.) "Oh no, though," she finally answered, shaking her head at the flask, "no thank you. I don't trust that thing for one moment."

Instead, Haala shook out her clothes as vigorously as she could muster, then laid them across the sun soaked rocks to dry. The sand would come off on its own once they had. Then, when that was done, she set about doing the same thing for herself. After brushing off whatever sand she could from her skin, Haala pulled herself up onto a sunny ledge on the rock and stretched out on her stomach. It wouldn't take too long, this way, to dry and in the interim the warmth of the rock and the sun was nice after the cold night in the desert.

Folding her arms before her and resting her head lazily on them, Haala looked at Dirk curiously (not for the first and surely not for the last time). "Where do you get all this stuff, anyway?"

Feeling the beginnings of his involuntary arousal at Haala's disrobing, Dirk quickly turned away and went about donning his armor. Peek at what indeed. He was surely comfortable with his own nudity, but there was not much time spent with women in all his years of education and training. As he pulled the black leathers from his sack, he deposited the magic flask back within.

"Most of my more powerful items were given to me by my teacher," he figured teacher was easier to accept than all powerful Guardian of the Multiverse. Ritousaey told Dirk that people would likely think him mad if he claimed to know such a being, let alone be raised by it.

"Since my pack can carry a near endless amount of things, I tend to pick up anything that I find odd or interesting," he reached into the worn satchel and pulled out a finely crafted coin purse. It was smaller than his hand and looked to be the kind a wealthy noble woman would have.

"With this gift from my teacher, I have no need of money either. So the price of the things I acquire myself is never an issue." He pushed the magic coin purse back in his bag and returned to pulling tight the straps on his leather armor. Once the last buckle had been fastened, he pulled on his boots and secured his cloak around his neck. With the hood down and his scarf resting against his chest, he looked both intimidating and dashing. His hair was freshly cut and stood up in spiky tufts, his face cleanly shaven, was boyish, yet strong. He turned his head just enough that he could spy the nearly nude form of Haala, to see if she was looking his way. She was, and on seeing that, Dirk turned away again. He did not wish to be rude, and he knew he would stare if he let himself.

To occupy himself he returned to the task of arming himself. Armor on, he could now start sliding the numerous daggers into the hidden places in his armor. He did it with practiced efficiency. The thirty-two blades of nearly identical shape and size, went in quickly, and Dirk was soon buckling on his sword belt. Across the small of his back, he slid the kukri he had left for Haala. The hilt was at the perfect height for him to reach back and grab with his right hand. On his right hip, he hung his dirk, the long knife angled for a quick draw with a left handed grip.  The grappling hook he'd used earlier to scale the rocks, he hung beside it.

"You were not pleased with my killing of the snake, though I had intended to eat it," Dirk said as he pulled a longbow from his pack, "when I was crossing the tops of some of the rocks I saw a small herd of gazelle. Would you mind if I ate one of those?" The pack next supplied him with a full quiver of arrows, which he hung from his left hip. "It bothers me to go long periods of time being sustained by magic instead of food."

Haala remained entirely oblivious to Dirk's struggle. Having six sisters who were all famed beauties, she had been long accustomed to thinking of herself as plain. And it didn't help that she'd spent much more of her time thinking about astronomy, maps, and learning the art of metal-smithing than she ever had about men or romance. He was acting funny, but he'd been acting funny since she met him! So his current evasive behavior didn't really stand out to her.

Haala propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him. Why he was already on his feet and putting all that ridiculous armour back on was a mystery to her. Surely he should be relaxing and taking it easy in, well, normal clothes for awhile? Maybe even nap? They'd traveled all night.

"So you mean you never have to earn or work for anything?" she asked, perhaps not as kindly as she could have. "I mean, you don't have to earn any money or carry a heavy load or worry about water or supplies or... Sounds a bit like cheating, if you ask me. And where does all the money come from, anyway? Also from the poor, good people of Parsia?" she asked, pulling a face remembering the poor people whose well she was sure Dirk was draining. She heaved a loud, exasperated sigh as though Dirk were beyond hope, then stretched out, catlike again, laying her head back down and closing her eyes.

But she secretly opened one eye, watching Dirk arrange what seemed like countless knives or daggers or who knew. Who needed so many weapons? What a mystery he was - and mystery meant adventure! And Haala couldn't entirely pretend that she didn't find him intriguing. (Intriguing, right?) Secretly, and maybe pointlessly, Haala found herself wishing she had some of her sisters' beauty. But why was she thinking that?

"Yes, that's fine," she answered, trying her best to act nonchalant like Shoshana or Jala or Mahala might. "A gazelle is fine. Well, one gazelle is fine. Can I come with..." She almost asked if she could come along; she'd never been hunting and she was curious, but then she realized it ruined the nonchalant attitude. So instead she finished with, "I'll be here getting dry."

Haala would remain behind to get dry. That was for the best. Dirk didn't need her there looking over his shoulder. It was bad enough he couldn't control his body, even as he kept his desire in check. He slung the bow over his shoulder and began his trek through the craggy paths that led to the herd he had spotted. Not getting to close, he climbed up a sturdy rock face to give himself a better shot. As the gazelle nibbled at the sparse grasses, Dirk set his arrow and drew. He kept steady, feeling the wind flow and judging the angle and speed. He watched the lean of the few plants and observed the flow of dust and debris. When he was sure of his shot he loosed. His arrow flew true finding its mark in the heart of one of the graceful creatures. It let out a cry and gave a little hop, its last movement before it fell over and died. The others had taken the warning and began springing away in fear, but Dirk had all he needed.

Only gone maybe twenty minutes, Dirk returned to Haala with the gazelle across his shoulders. "She's pretty big. I hope you have a good appetite."

Haala had drifted off in Dirk's absence, lulled to sleep by the warming stone and sun. In her dream, she'd been in the North, surrounded by snow and fluffy wolfdogs and ice bears, with her sister Layla. They were watching the Magical Lights in the Sky. Haala had turned to tell Layla something, but the snow had swallowed her whole. She was gone. Then she was back in the desert, chasing after Layla and Amira, but she couldn't catch her sisters, no matter how hard they ran. Then she tripped on a snake, the one Dirk had killed, and looked up to find him entwined with Jala, the most beautiful of all of her sisters. Then she was in the workshop attached to their house, but Amina was yelling at her, about how she'd left the family and had to leave. Go, go, go, Haala, we don't want you here. You left us. You embarrassed us all.

Haala woke with a start. Gradually, the reality of her surroundings returned to her. Finally she was able to focus and see Dirk standing there, with the gazelle slung over his shoulders.

"What? Oh. Oh, um," Haala rubbed her face, yawned, and stretched. Then, pulling herself up into a sitting position, she looked at Dirk and the gazelle anew. "Yes," she agreed, "she is. We'll have to stay here a bit longer to dry all the meat. I suppose that's fine. I'm not going to get where I'm going tomorrow." This, in truth, was a little bit of fishing; Haala hadn't talked to anyone about her plans, and she couldn't believe that Dirk had come this far with her without even asking where she was going!

Haala slid off the rock, landing on her feet, then gave another sleepy stretch and set about brushing the now dry sand off her skin. Trying to get it off her back involved quite a bit of spinning and contorting. Finally, after she'd put herself in a tizzy and done a good impression of a dog chasing its own tail without actually successfully removing any of the sand, she cast a glance over to Dirk. "You can't give me a hand here, can you?"

When Haala got up from the rock, Dirks neat control was bombarded with desire. Then the dancing around in near nudity sent him through the roof, his face turning bright red. He was glad his scarf and hood were up and that his leather armor hid the growth in his loins. His embarrassment was well disguised, but when she asked for his help he was frozen in terror. She wanted him to touch her, touch her bare skin, with his hands. He slowly put down the gazelle and approached Haala. For the first time in decades, he was shaking with nerves. Luckily for him he didn't sweat much. His dry hands brushed against her skin, dislodging the sand from the hard to reach places on her back. At first his movements were jerky, and unsure. Human contact was not something he was accustomed to. Her skin was soft, and warm from the sun. Once he got passed the initial nervousness, he savored the feeling of her skin. Then he realized his pleasure at contact with her and his blush returned, along with more fervent desire. He quickly finished stroking the sand from her soft flesh, and retreated back to the gazelle. Putting himself into the task of preparing the meat would help clear his mind. No need to give in to those base human feelings.

Haala' stretched, arching her back as Dirk brushed the sand from her dried skin. It would have been nearly impossible for her to get that herself... well, maybe. She realized as his hand brushed against the small of her back that she probably could have just used her scarf to get the sand off. Or her traveling robes; they were always full of sand, anyway. Well... no reason to tell him to stop now. It'd be rude, right? And anyway, this way none of her things got sandy! Or, rather, sandier than they were destined to be in the desert anyway.

"Oh, thank you so much," she said appreciatively when Dirk finished, "I don't think I could have spun around fast enough to get it all to fly off!" She tried to throw him a grin, but he seemed to be determinedly not looking at her and, she noticed, he looked rather scarlet. Surely he couldn't be burning already! And he said he didn't need to worry about the sun... Haala decided not to chastise him for it, though; she didn't want to seem like a nag.

Instead, she went over to where she'd laid her clothes out to dry. Deciding they were close enough, Haala shook them out vigorously and, doing one final shake to get the remaining sand off herself, put the mismatching, brightly colored clothing back on. Though, compared to Dirk in his head-to-toe hooded armor, Haala still seemed only half-dressed in her Essryni attire. Wrapping the sheer turquoise scarf loosely about her shoulders, Haala padded back over to where Dirk was cleaning the gazelle and perched on a rock to watch him work.

After a few moments of silence, Haala finally couldn't bear it anymore. Pushing her hair away from her face in an unconscious tick, Haala asked, "Aren't you at all curious where I'm going, or what I'm doing out here in the desert by myself?"

"I am interested to know where you're headed, yes," Dirk said to Haala without looking up from his bloody work, "but I don't ask about things that aren't my business. If you had hired me as a guide, I would want full disclosure. As a stranger met in travels, it's not my place to ask."

He had fully removed the skin and pinned it to a rack he'd made from the branches of a sparse tree. In the heat of the desert, the tanning would happen quickly. His movements were automatic, slicing the meat into the proper cuts. He made sure to keep and use all the parts of the animal. There was no need to be wasteful. As Rit had taught him, waste not want not.

"Now that you seem to be offering though, I would gladly hear where you're headed." The work, and the casual conversation helped Dirk tame his desires. His blush had long since faded, and his manhood was no longer attempting to rest control of his senses.