Lands of Dust (The Dying World Book 1)

by John Triptych

  Rion sat down on the teaching floor as Devos sat by the fire pit, brewing a pot of tea. Miri felt she was needed elsewhere, but Devos insisted that she have at least a cup before she resumed her sentry duties. The protector was sitting beside the boy as she tried to use her mindsense again in an attempt to probe Rion’s memories, but she went up against a solid wall of mental blackness. After a few minutes of trying, she gave up as she shook her head slowly in order to free up her mental state back into a sense of normality.

  Rion looked up at her. “You were trying to probe my mind, were you not?”

  Miri smirked. She was now convinced that the boy was no ordinary Magus. “I am sorry, Rion. It was merely a reaction.”

  “A reaction to what? Because I am not telling you more about my life?”

  “Yes,” Miri said softly. “As protector of the tribe, it is important that I would know of any potential threats to the settlement.”

  The boy looked down onto the smooth floor. “Do you think I am a threat to the tribe?”

  Miri leaned forward and placed a warm hand on his knee. “No, Rion. Not you. I was thinking about those men who were hunting you.”

  “Do you think they might try to find me here?”

  “There is a possibility,” Miri said. “Do you have any idea why you would be so valuable to them?”

  The boy said nothing as he just shook his head.

  “Do you know if there were others like you in that place?”

  Rion looked away. “I do not think so. But there were times when I would be asleep and I would dream about others. It was like they were calling out to me. One was a girl near my age, she was begging me to help her, yet I knew I could not.”

  Devos walked over and placed a steaming pot on the floor in between them. “Dreams, eh? There was a story that once said that the gods spoke to people using dreams. Another story told of a very powerful Striga, who could communicate with anyone across the entire world while she dreamed. You see, this Striga was always asleep, and the others were using her as a sort of machine with which to communicate with others from faraway lands. What they would do is to go into the resting place, and whisper into her ear while she slept. Then she would relay her thoughts as they traveled across the farthest reaches to their destination.”

  Miri looked up at the teller while she accepted a hot cup of tea. “Devos, do you know of any stories in which men could have the mindsense?”

  Devos poured another cup and handed it over to the boy as he turned away to think. “None of the stories have told of men with that kind of power, except perhaps the male gods.”

  “So the power of thought only belongs to the women? Were there any male Gorgons?” Miri asked.

  “From what I remember, the stories were not clear,” Devos said. “It was said that the first Gorgons were women, but there were other stories of Gorgons being both male and female. It is said that they were able to mate with each other and bear offspring as both husband and wife. Why do you ask about this?”

  Miri looked at the boy. “Perhaps there is another child like Rion, who can communicate across the land using his thoughts.”

  Devos stood up and walked over to a nearby bone shelf. He took out a small rock with intricate carvings on it. “The stories always told of children who grew up and became powerful users of Vis, but there was not a single tale of a child with the power of a god.” He looked closely at the flat stone. “It is a pity that the ways of the tellers have been lost through time, for all stories are now passed from one mouth to another.”

  Rion noticed the rock that the teller was holding. “May I see that?”

  Devos gave the small stone to the boy. “Of course, child.”

  Rion ran his index finger along the chiseled grooves of the stone. It was starting to make sense to him. “This stone tells a different tale. It says, ‘inventory for the fourth ship in the dock is as follows: forty amphorae of wine, sixty baskets of gold.’ I do not know what gold is. What does it mean?”

  The teller’s eyes opened wide. “By the gods! You know how to read the glyphs!”

  Miri was shocked as well. “Gold is a kind of shiny metal. Rion, how did you learn that?”

  The boy simply shrugged. “I thought it was natural for everyone to be able to read glyphs.”

  Devos shook his head. “No, child. The entire tribe has forgotten the art of reading and deciphering these glyphs for generations now. You are actually the first in known time to do this! Why have you not told us of this before?”

  Rion looked somewhat confused. He thought that the teller had read all of the stones in his possession. “Uh, because you never asked me?”

  The teller started laughing as he took out a leather basket from the shelf and placed it on the floor beside the pot of tea. It was full of stone tablets similar to what Rion was holding. “Rion, please go through all of these. They are called telling stones. If you find something of importance, I beg of you to tell me.”

  As Rion picked up several carvings and started reading them, Miri edged in closer. “Rion,” she said. “Do you have any memories as to who taught you to read this?”

  The boy didn’t take his eyes off the telling stones as he shook his head. “No, all I remember was the bloodletting. Before that, my recollections were of nothing.”

  Devos was in an excitable mood as he crouched down beside the boy. “Do you know why tellers are so important to the tribe, Rion?”

  The boy shrugged while he picked up another carving and kept on reading. “No.”

  “The teller of the tribe is a preserver of knowledge for the people,” Devos said. “Through them, the tribe learns the will of the gods and the ways of the land. The teller is the one who teaches the children and counsels the elders on what paths the people should take. A teller must know a thousand stories by heart, the more legends he can tell, the more understanding the tribe has. Since you can read the glyphs on the stones, then surely you can unlock many areas of our knowledge that have been lost through time. Can you not teach me this gift, Rion?”

  The boy looked at him and nodded. “I would, but I think you know far more than me when it comes to telling stories.”

  Devos chuckled. He had found his successor. “I am old. My memories fade with time. I have observed many people in the tribe, and none of them have your talents. Please teach me how to read the glyphs and I will tell you all the legends I know. When I am gone, you will be the tribe’s new teller.”

  Rion stopped reading. “You will do all that? For me?”

  The old man placed his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “You have great gifts, Rion. I foresee that you will become the greatest teller of this tribe.”

  Miri smiled as she finished the last of her tea and stood up. “Well, I think the two of you working together will be of great benefit to the settlement. Now if you will excuse me, I have to return to my duties. Farewell.”

  Devos waved at the protector as she opened the flap in the entryway and stepped out. “Farewell, Miri, We shall see you later.” Then he turned and saw the boy looking at a gold tablet. “Oh, so you have found my most prized possession. It is as Miri described, a golden rock, inscribed by many unknown and wondrous glyphs that I hope you will translate for me.”

  Rion didn’t reply. He just kept reading the writing on the stone. The boy had a serious look on his face.

  “Is everything alright, child?” Devos asked.

  Rion let out a sigh. “Many of the glyphs in the others stones do not really tell any stories, they seem to be just lists of mundane possessions, or messages. But this one tells a very strange tale.”

  “Could you say it aloud for me to hear?”

  The boy nodded. “It says, ‘the last child shall venture into the last city, and the new world will begin.’ The rest of the glyphs seem indecipherable.”

  Chapter 8

  Erewn drew his cloak closer to his body while staring out at the settlement ahead. He spent nearly a moon out in the wastes, and all he found wa
s a single sandal. Judging from the size of the shoe, it had to be the boy’s. If the child had managed to survive the rigors of the desert, then he might have very well have made it into that village, he figured. Since Erewn had seen the bloodletting, he knew what the child looked like. What made the whole scheme risky was the possibility of the boy recognizing him even though he had worn a mask during the whole process of extracting the essence. If that were to happen then the alarm would be sounded, and he would have to fight his way to get the boy back. He needed to find a way to get inside, and take the boy while the others weren’t looking. His pack of supplies was buried a few leagues away, near a small crop of boulders.

  The seeker thought about it for a moment. He had read up on the tribes using the citadel’s archives before he made the trek. This looked to be the only surviving tribe within a hundred leagues. If any of them still had the power of Vis, then there were chances Strigas resided within the tribe. Although he had trained for such an event for many cycles, Erewn had no previous experience when it came to actually fighting one in battle. The best way to defeat a woman with the mindsense would be to overwhelm her quickly- use all his Vis and strike a killing blow, he mused. Use your mental blocks and fight ferociously, or else they would ultimately cloud your thoughts, and reduce your mind into that of a helpless, docile beast: easy pickings for a slaughter in the worst of cases.

  He continued to crouch down near the edge of a sand dune, the shade offering a nice, comfortable hiding place, while observing the events occurring within the settlement. There was a knee-high wall of bricks along the perimeter. The opposite side of the village seemed to border the banks of the Silt Sea, and that would be the place where they would scrounge for algae to feed themselves. Man-sized boulders were strategically positioned behind the perimeter, with a single man watching out into the desert beyond. It looked to be less than four men who were serving as lookouts. Erewn had expected more. Either this village was also on the decline, or the main group of guards was somewhere else.

  The seeker squinted his eyes as he tried to focus on the weapons they were carrying. He could see that the sentries carried spears with bone shafts, the crudest weapons imaginable. Erewn couldn’t look far enough as to discern what kind of spear tips they had, but it looked to be nothing more than chipped stone. That was a good sign, it meant the tribe was not well equipped when it came to war. Erewn himself did not have much metal either, so anything that would give him an advantage was welcome.

  When the sun began to dip closer to the horizon, Erewn lay on his back while he thought up a plan on how to succeed in this most delicate of tasks. If they still clung to the old ways, then they would surely offer him the promise of sanctuary. If they did so, it would give him the edge to succeed. He would take advantage of that sacred trust, locate the boy and kill him during the dead of night. Once the task was completed, he would slip away before anyone would detect him. The wastes were vast, and he was supremely confident he could lose them out here should they be foolish enough to pursue him. This was it then. The task was set, time to cast the die. He stood up, patted away the grains of sand that still clung on his clothes, and began walking towards the village.

  The moment he made it to within visual distance, he noticed one of the sentries sitting on a boulder quickly see him and stand up, while uttering a loud, indecipherable yell. He made it to half the distance from the perimeter walls when a small group of five men and a woman began walking towards him. Erewn concentrated on his Vis to put up as many thought blocks in his mind as possible. The woman who was approaching him with the rest of the guards was obviously a Striga, and he had to be ready for it.

  Erewn stood still and broke out into a smile as the small group walked up and partially surrounded him. He raised his hand in the air, palm up in the universal gesture of peace. “Greetings. My name is Erewn, of the Silid tribe.”

  The woman had slightly paler skin than the others. She had fiery red hair and carried a black spear with an obsidian tip. “Greetings to you. I am Miri, protector of the Arum Navar tribe. If I may kindly ask, what brings you here to our humble settlement?”

  Erewn sighed in relief. “I have been travelling across the wastes for many cycles. I would like to request some shelter in order to rest before continuing onward.”

  Miri was on guard. Less than two moons ago, they had found Rion out in the desert and she had been expecting some trouble to find its way here. This man was the first outsider to chance upon the settlement since a mother and child of the Nartos tribe had come to the village, requesting sanctuary. But that had been over twenty cycles ago, when she was just a toddler. “I would like to ask some questions first,” she said. “You say you are from the Silid tribe. We have not encountered any of their kind since I was but a child. Can you tell me where the rest of your people are?”

  Erewn gestured towards the dunes out in the distance. “I am the last of my tribe. The Silid are no more. After my father had died, I have been wandering the wastes ever since.”

  Several hunters in the group gasped. Miri held out her hand, signaling the others to be silent. “That is a sad tale you tell. May the gods honor your tribe in the spirit world. From our old stories, we once traded with the Silid, and their memory will be missed. Tell me, have you had any strange encounters these past few moons?”

  “Other than a small octapede I was able to hunt a few days ago, there is nothing but dust out there,” Erewn said.

  Miri nodded. She needed to know if this stranger was hostile. Looking away for a brief second, she concentrated her Vis, putting out some mental feelers to see if she could probe the thoughts of the man standing in front of her. Her mindsense began to cast mental waves to his skull, checking what his surface thoughts were. Almost immediately, she could picture endless dunes of sand and the bright, reddish rays of the sun. Slightly altering her mental frequency, Miri tired to go for a deeper probe, but all she could sense was an intensely bright light that quickly blinded her thoughts. The feedback was so acute that she staggered backwards for a bit, nearly losing her balance.

  Krag caught her by the elbow and propped her up. “Protector Miri, are you alright?”

  Miri quickly regained her sense of balance. “Yes, thank you, chief hunter.” She turned and looked back at Erewn. “I cannot seem to sense your deeper thoughts, have you had training in mind defenses?”

  Erewn shook his head. “No, not at all.”

  Miri was caught in a bind. The stranger was not hostile and he asked for sanctuary. According to the tribe’s traditions, they could not refuse to help a peaceful outsider who asked for assistance. She knew he was lying, for only those trained to resist the Vis could put up a powerful thought defense like he did, but she was bound by honor to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Know this, Erewn of the Silid. I am inclined to reject your request, but the tribe must obey the old laws, for without the mercy of Karma, our ways will be lost. Do you make the sacred oath of peace, of pledging not to do violence within our abode?”

  Erewn made a short bow. “I do. I swear to the gods that I shall abide with the pledge of peace.”

  Miri nodded. “As per the old ways, you must declare to us should you possess any weapons of any kind. Please show them now.”

  Erewn untied the collar around his cloak and let it slip onto the sandy ground. As he turned around everyone else let out a gasp. Strapped to his back was a bone sword. The base of the blade itself was made from the spine of a long dead beast, and it narrowed towards its tip while it got thicker towards the sword guard. The edges of the blade were serrated with razor sharp chips of obsidian embedded into the sides of the bone. There were strips of leather tied around the sword grip, while the pommel was made from heavy bronze. The point of the weapon was blunt, for it was clearly used for slashing. Erewn placed his hands behind his back as he unhooked the sword from the leather scabbard on his back and placed it on the ground.

  Of the others, only Miri was somewhat unfazed. “Do you have any other wea
pons?”

  Erewn smiled and nodded. He pulled out an iron dagger from the small sheath in his waist and placed it on the ground beside the sword. “These are all the weapons I have, Protector.”

  Krag crouched down as he ran a finger along the base of the dagger’s blade. “This weapon seems to be of some very fine workmanship. Where did you get it?”

  “I found the dagger while out in the wastes,” Erewn said. “From a dried corpse half buried in the sand many cycles ago. It was still intact so I took it for myself.”

  “And your sword?” Miri asked.

  “That belonged to my father,” the outsider said. “He was my tribe’s protector. Before he died, that is.”

  Miri nodded. He was lying about the dagger, it looked to be too well-maintained to have been found out in the desert. She had to find a way to get the elders to reject his pledge. “Very well. If you wish to enter then you come with us. We shall escort you to our gathering hall and you will speak with the elders of our tribe. We will carry your weapon with us and it may be returned to you, depending on what our elders decree. Do you accept these conditions?”

  Erewn let out a deep breath. “What choice do I have? I am tired and in need of rest. Yes, I do accept.”

  “Very well, follow me.”

  Miri led the way into the village, followed by Erewn. Krag and two hunters were at the rear while holding onto the stranger’s weapons. The elders had already been notified and they were already inside the hall, waiting for them. Miri deliberately chose a longer route towards the center of the settlement, going through a side street while passing close to the teller’s hut, so that the children could see the stranger walking through. Miri wanted to make sure Rion would at least catch a glimpse of the outsider in case he recognized him. But as they passed by a group of children playing near the well, Rion gave a short glance at the stranger before turning back and chasing after a smaller boy who had playfully taunted him. A few adults noticed the outsider, and stared at him while pausing from performing their daily routines. After sensing that Rion didn’t recognize him, Miri turned and tried to decipher any possible reaction from Erewn, but the outsider didn’t betray any emotion as they arrived at the entrance of the hall. Opening a large leather flap for him, Miri bade the stranger to step inside. After Erewn entered the hall, she quickly followed.