Author: Wendell, Posted: Thu Oct 3, 2019 5:06 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Wendell wasn’t too sure what the woman’s remark had meant. Was a man only a pirate if he had a boat at his feet? Was he meant to act a certain way that he had not? Did she miss the cruel treatment of the crew?

It was strange to awake to yet more magic and though he wondered what else this wanderer was capable of, he dare not ask. There was no profit to be gained from biting the hand that fed him. Magic or not, water was water and they needed it to survive. The horses stood at the pool for a long time, drinking with a thirst that seemed to rival the man’s own.

Wendell took the opportunity to wash while Kes’tral slept, cleaning the bloody sash before using it to lift water to his skin, rinsing the muck and grime away from his face, arms and upper body. It took only moments to dry everything, even the off-white tunic he had twisted and scrubbed in the pool. The air was so hot that he was surprised much of anything survived here. Perhaps, he thought, I will have to learn some magic too.

The days fell away, their routine strengthened by the woman’s magic. With water to fill their bellies, their hunger was almost forgotten for a time, only raising its ugly head when they stopped to quench their thirst again. The change of scenery couldn’t have come soon enough, and though it was not the lush fields or forests Wendell might have hoped for, any escape from the heat was welcome.

“We do not know this place ahead of us,” he said. “I feel it is wise if we spend tonight here where we can watch and listen.” There was something to be said for gaining knowledge, even he knew that.

They travelled as close to the strange, rocky land as they dared, until the sun had dipped down to sit for a spell upon the horizon. The change in temperate was significantly different come nightfall, almost as if they had returned to the coast. Wendell walked to the top of a dune after a short rest and looked out over the scarred land beyond, into what appeared to be a canyon. The rocky mountains ahead were strange colours, though he could not be sure if it was just a trick of the light. Hues of purple, red and white covered the alien landmass, leading the man to imagine all types of things.

What if they were walking towards something worse than the nothingness at their backs? At the very least they knew they would have water wherever they went, as long as he stuck with Kes’tral at least, Wendell knew this to be the case. A couple of skeleton trees dotted the distant land and Wendell imagined that, if there were trees, there was life beyond the hotlands.

They would need to hunt tomorrow before their bodies grew too weak to do so. Wendell had a bow, but without arrows, he knew it was useless to them. His throwing knives and the handaxe would be his best shot at taking anything down within range. The man licked his sunburnt lips to wet them. If there were mountains then surely there existed goats too or other forms of wildlife.

When he returned to camp, he told Kes’tral of what he had seen. He had a plan, but until they knew exactly what they were dealing with, he knew it was not worth mentioning. The best intentions were often undone by the smallest of inconveniences. His stomach tightened painfully, as if to remind him of his hunger. He squeezed the muscles tight, hoping to suppress the pain that followed and lingered long into the restless night.

Author: Kes, Posted: Thu Oct 3, 2019 4:17 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Kes’tral hadn’t had time to respond to his initial question about the water, focused as she was on cleaning his wound and seeing it sealed from the elements. “You are welcome,” the woman responded to his thanks and moved to sit before him once more, hands resting on her knees as she sat cross-legged. Her hair trailed down her back, before she pulled a long thread forward and started to braid it. Some of the blood from his arm staining the pale strands and woven into the pattern as she went.

He lay down and she looked out across the otherwise empty desert. The horses she could hear, still moving around behind her. They worried her the most, it had been a long day without opportunity to quench their thirst. She grinned at his comment, “I preferred you as a pirate,” she retorted and stood. She turned her back to the man, pausing to look over her shoulder, “A girl cannot be a bird forever.”

Wendy slept and Kes kept busy. Tired herself, she focused her attention on digging a small dip in the hot sand. There had been a wide shallow bowl in one of the bags and she lay in the hole. The woman closed her eyes, hands pressed to the sand she concentrated. Far, far below the sands and the long lost seeds of life, plants that had died and been buried, there was rock. The rock was ancient, cracked and further, further down almost beyond her reach, there was water.

Losing track of time, she coaxed the water forth in a trickle. She eased it forth through rock and ancient ash. Kes called the lifeblood of the world forth, gentle in her attempt to coax it. Finally, after hours, when her legs and arms were numb from stillness, she was rewarded. A tiny trickle of water appeared beneath her hand. A hand that had been scorched by the burning sand, skin peeling away in pale flakes from the palm. She tipped the bowl, letting the water run in and fill it. It was then that she gathered up the canteens, holding them till they too were refreshed.

Kes summoned the horses to drink from the bowl and was nuzzled with their gratitude. Though they also asked for grass and she was forced to refuse them. Wendy woke, and she gestured to the tiny spring that seemed to rise from the sand itself. He told her to sleep, and she was only to glad to oblige. Simply rolling onto her side, with her face pressed to the scarf. Once she was curled up, sleep found her fast and was a reluctant companion to leave.

North he said next morning, and she agreed.

The pair travelled well enough together. Curious about the man’s past, she tried probing, asking about the frozen land he’d once called home. Perhaps, she wondered, it would be somewhere she would explore in the future. The distant future she thought ruefully.

The desert swallowed them for another day. Their meagre strips of dried meat soon did little ease the nagging sensation of hunger. She warned the man away from the foliage that grew in the desert. Though she didn’t understand exactly what it was she didn’t like about the two main plants they seemed to pass, they both unsettled her. The horses were hungry, but at least when they broke to rest she was able to conjure enough water to prevent dehydration.

The sand was cruel to their skin, and her hands were left blistered from the attempt to summon water from the very depths of the world. It was happy, deep within the rocks and reluctant to come forth to the cursed land above.

It was by the forth dusk they faced since leaving the ship, that the landscape began to change. Mountains rose in the distance and she could smell the earth changing beneath. After exchanging a glance with Wendy, Kes nudged her horse forward as the sun began to set.

It came like air to suffocated lungs. The first touch of coolness that spread with the setting sun. As their journey continued, the sand lifted and gave way to harder ground. There was water nearby, and foliage too. Kes slid down from her horse, striding forward with the animal eager to stay at her heels.

“Life,” she looked back at Wendy, “there is life here.” She grinned.

Author: Wendell, Posted: Thu Oct 3, 2019 3:07 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

“What are you doing?” He asked, as the woman threw away what little water she had. “We’ve no idea how long we will be stuck out here, you just threw away another day at least.” Wendell could not see the state of the wound, but she was right, it smelled bad, the water doing little to lift such a smell.

He let Kes’tral work without complaint and only flinched when he experienced a pinch as the poisons were drawn out of his body. “I don’t imagine their blades were clean,” Wendell said. “Thank you,” he told her, once the healing was done.

Kes’tral spoke of a life of roaming, with no real place to call home as such, no place she had run from to which she could refuse to return. How unsettling, the man thought, to grow up on the move, like a herd of cattle wandering from place to place. He imagined she had seen a lot in her lifetime, though he could not be sure how long that lifetime had been, for she appeared far more youthful than he.

Without a word, Wendell pressed the dirty sash into his backpack and lay down on the sand once more, using his bag as a makeshift pillow, topped with the folded, dark tunic he had kept for shade. The heat of the night was exhausting, even in rest, making sleep difficult to come by.

He closed his eyes and wondered why the bird woman had not offered her help sooner. She wouldn’t have needed to waste her water then, he thought. What was it about her that irked him so, her youth? Perhaps it was her brutal honesty.

“I preferred it when you were a bird,” the man said, eyes closed, though his features fashioned a smile of sorts. This time he was teasing, even if there had been an element of truth to his words.

Eventually, sleep found him and the hours passed like seconds in his recollection, upon waking. It seemed Kre’tral had not disturbed him as he had requested to allow her to find rest while he sat guard. Maybe, he thought, she had tried and he had not stirred. It didn’t appear that there was much night left, however, he encouraged her to sleep all the same.

The sky was a midnight blue, dotted with a vast array of tiny stars, like pinpricks in the sky, letting through whatever existed beyond the dark blanket of night. What curse had befallen the land long ago, he wondered, to make night day, even without the aid of the sun.

He raised his right hand to run his fingers over the fresh scar on the back of his arm, measuring about two inches across. The cut must have been bad, he thought, to leave such a scar. Kre’tral had done a fine job of healing him. Wendell knew things would have gotten far worse before they got better, if things had improved at all. Infection was nothing to mess with or take lightly. He had seen such claim its fair share of men and women alike.

Come dawn, Wendell saddled his horse and called Kes’tral to rise. The pair set off again, finding once more that they had strayed northwest, as if the sands had carried them in the night, closer to something and further from their starting point. Returning to his boat seemed like a distant dream, one Wendell knew he would need to put on hold until he had the means to retrieve it.

“North,” he pointed, having studied the compass for a long, quiet moment from the back of his horse. “We go north.”

Author: Kes, Posted: Thu Oct 3, 2019 6:35 AM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Kes stood when he gave his reluctant acceptance. She scooped up her canteen from the sand and moved to kneel behind him. She sat back on her heels, patient as he pulled off his outer layer and exposed a mess of scars and rough treatment to her sight. There was little light without the sun, but even by the glow of the moon and stars, the abuse his body had faced was clear. She frowned, brows narrowed as she inspected the different marks without touching them.

How bad was it? She lifted a brow, touching the edge of the wound with her fingertips, her hand cool against the hot skin. “Looks bad, smells worse.” She replied. Kes curled her hand around the mans arm, the upper part beneath the armpit. He was sweaty, smelly and she didn’t seem to mind. Her expression impassive as she squeezed the muscle tightly and poured out the contents of her canteen over the open wound. Magic could do a lot, but it was always worth trying to assist a spell with basic attention first.

With the water gone, Kes closed her eyes. She held his arm firmly; and he would struggle to pull it from her grasp. She sensed the wound, exploring it with her ability rather then her gaze. She could almost feel the blow as it landed, his body remember. His body remember more then perhaps his mind wanted to. The touch of infection made her feel queasy, as though she’d hit her head. Kes drew in a breath, listening to him speak and smiled.

She pulled at her own essence, the strength within and she used it to clear the wound, scouring away the infection that lingered despite the water. Satisfied that at least it was clean, she worked to close the muscle together. Silent as she worked, she frowned, wrestling with tissue that was as stubborn as the man it belonged it. Wendy would have felt a pinching at first as she wrestled with the infection, before the sensation might have been replaced by something close to pins and needles. The blood stopped seeping over her hands and she sat back. The flesh knit together before the final layers of skin spread and closed, leaving the man with a scar to match the rest of the marks on his body.

Kes released his arm gently, sitting back. She drew in her breathe with care, expecting to throw up again. Finally, she found her voice.

“I am from many places, my people travel often; wherever the adventure calls, we roam.” She wiped a hand across her brow, trying to ease her own headache. “We roam, we learn, we heal.” Kes smiled and opened her eyes.

“Lucky for you…” she paused a moment. “I should have done that before. I should not have delayed; but I did not realise how amusing I would find your company.” The woman say back in the sand and rested her hands on her knees, with no way to clean the blood from them.

Author: Wendell, Posted: Thu Oct 3, 2019 6:01 AM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Wendell flinched, not having expected the woman’s advance or touch. He sat up, having done his best up until now to ignore the throbbing pain in his arm. The unbearable heat of the desert had almost made that easy. In fact, he was dizzy with dissolution. This vast wasteland had been nothing like the romantic stories told by poets and bards, the types of people and creatures, he imagined, who had never stepped foot in such a place. Wendell would not be kind when he retold such tales.

Kes’tral had offered to help with his wound. Everything about the offer put him on edge. It was magic she would use, he suspected, the one thing he feared more than death. Magic, after all, had never held a place in his heart. He had little trust for such things and even less for those who were able to conjure spells. Kes’tral had saved him, led him to water and followed him this far, Wendell reminded himself. If she intended to hurt him now, it would make little sense.

The pirate bent his legs to anchor himself in the sand as he leaned forward, folding his arms to free himself of his sweat-drenched tunic. The fabric smelt terrible after two days in the sun and a rough night sleeping on a bed of sand. A low grunt escaped him as he pulled the tunic away, the left arm loop of the garment catching against the makeshift bandage he wore. He lay the top across his legs once free and picked at the knot of his bindings. The fabric didn’t come away easily, putting up more of a fight the closer he got to the wound. His blood had seeped into the material and caused the layers to stick together.

“Careful,” he warned, exhaustion and pain a bad mix on even the most tolerant of people, of which he was not.

Wendell couldn’t see the wound on the back of his arm, but once exposed, he realised it had not yet pulled itself closed, with fresh blood oozing down the back of his arm. The first signs of infection had set in, parts of the flesh mottled yellow and black with bruising. It seemed the heat of the desert was doing them little in the way of favours.

“How bad is it?” He asked. “It certainly feels bad,” the pirate admitted. “I’ve had worse,” he added. The woman only need look to realise that much was true, his torso and back riddled with silver scuffs and scars. There was a large scar that wrapped over his left side, from belly to backbone. It was ugly and pale, stark against his bronze skin.

“Where are you from?” Wendell asked, curious. Was her ability something she had learned or a trait of her people, he wondered. “I grew up in a wasteland of extremes, much like this one, only it was cold and always snowing.” Wendell looked out across the dark, rolling dunes. “It’s easy to say now, in this place, that I prefer the cold, but nothing in the world could tempt me home… nothing.” He would never go back. He had promised himself that long ago.

Author: Kes, Posted: Thu Oct 3, 2019 5:11 AM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Bird brain? Kes watched the man, laughing at his foul mood. Right up until he threatened her. It was then that she paused and tilted her head to the side as they rode. He sounded serious, he looked serious. Truly, did he feel no sense of companionship or loyalty? Perhaps he didn’t realise that she chose to remain with him, that it would have been easier to fly away and find herself food, water and shelter. However, leaving the man in the desert wouldn’t surely resign him to death. Why did she stay? Kes knew she owed the man nothing. Curiosity perhaps. The woman enjoyed an adventure, and this was more fun than spending her days on a ship. She lifted her shoulders, rolling them back and clicking them.

Perhaps it was his arm, the wound that caused him to be so bad tempered. Silence had fallen between them and she studied the endless dunes as they passed. They were quite beautiful really, the shifting sands like water beneath the horses. Ironic, as there was no water to be found. The canteen that hung from her side did little to quench her thirst, and she worried for their horses. Darkness gave little reprieve.

He curled up on his side and the woman approached. She knelt down beside him and touched his shoulder. “I can help your wound,” she told him, leaning forward to stare down into his face. “It hurts you, infection will kill you here. Where there is no way to clean it.”

Kes sat back on her haunches then, holding her hands to him palm up. “Take off the tunic?” She asked, leaning a little to the side as she watched him. He was taller than she was. Which was unusual in her experience. But he was broad, with wide shoulders; something that was not unusual.

Author: Wendell, Posted: Wed Oct 2, 2019 9:20 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Wendell scoffed. What did she know? “Bird brain,” he spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “If you think you will do any better alone, go, take your chances.”

They rode a way before he spoke again. “Besides, I asked you to find traders, not cut throats. If they had murdered me in my sleep, where would you be now? Certainly not on the back of a horse.”

Granted, neither would he if the woman hadn’t ended the life of the third and final man. “Perhaps you should get off that horse and walk a day in my shoes,” Wendell said, suggesting the woman suffer the heat and long walk in the sun just as he had the day before. “If only I could fly away from all of my problems.”

This journey was insufferable enough without spending it tied to a woman who made it ten times worse, he thought. Wendell found comfort in the fact that at least he had the humility to thank her, rather than point out her every downfall. “You’ll watch your tongue or I’ll eat you as well,” Wendell warned, without jest.

It was easy to miss the coast in the midst of the desert, even hot air, he imagined, was better than no air at all. It had been many years since Wendell had sat on the back of a horse. For the first hour into the journey, there was a certain sense of excitement to being back in the saddle. This soon passed, however, as familiar aches and pains resurfaced and the man was reminded why he had taken to the sea all those years ago, rather than remain in the saddle, serving some foreign lord unworthy of his loyalty.

How different would his life be, he wondered, if he had chosen to stay in his hometown, serving the lord of the land, just as his father had before him. Wendell wanted more than that for himself. He wanted adventure and stories to tell his future children. What did he owe some entitled lord? Nothing, but if he ever returned home, he knew the only thing waiting for a deserter was arrest.

It had taken some skill to trade his black tunic for white, something he did mid-ride. The heat of the day was unbearable. It made no sense to encourage the sun’s attention by wearing black. Wendell’s arm throbbed. He knew the bindings were too tight, but could think of no other way to stop the bleeding. The tips of his fingers tingled, numb, as if no longer apart of him.

By the time night fell, though the lack of sun afforded them some reprieve from the heat, the air remained hot. Even the sweat on his brow seemed to boil as if they had walked a path of burning coals. The horses were glad for rest when it came time to stop. The black gelding lay down in the sand, head slumped against the earth. The saddle had been removed, the reins, however, remained. Wendell had tied them to the saddle. There was nothing for the horse to eat and thus, little to tempt it away from their camp.

The idea of sleep was unsettling. What else would find them in the night? “You’re on first watch,” he said, tucked against the sand on his good arm. “Wake me if you get too tired.”

Author: Kes, Posted: Wed Oct 2, 2019 5:07 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Kes had chuckled at his response. She had seen his behaviour on the deck of the ship; if he was cursed it was by his own behaviour and actions. She watched him as they rode, after all other then endless, endless dunes of sand, there was little else to look at. His arm must be hurting him, she knew. She also had the ability to remove such a wound from the man but decided to stay her hand for the time being. Who knew what they would face in the coming days? A fate worse then a bloody arm could befall either of them and she liked to keep her options open.

She was restless as they rode, becoming accustomed to her body once more. She swung her legs and arms; twisted and touched the rump of the horse before stretching out and touching it’s ears. Thankful, that the animal was patient with her, even if the mare was curious. Her limbs still felt too long and ungainly, strange without the drag of feathers to weight them. Slowly, her sense of smell and long distance vision was fading and left her feeling as though she had a heavy cold. It would be a few days before she adjusted entirely and her human self became normal; whatever that was.

He spoke of their options and she laughed, twisting to stare at him once more. “Options?” She shook her head, “there is little to this land but sand.” Kes lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “no trees, no wood for some way.” She looked further back at the dunes they’d already climbed. “I do not believe we will return to your boat.” Kes’tral told him, honest.

It was then that she gestured to the empty sand ahead. “I know little of this land, except that…if you seek life then we travel the right path.” She sniffed the air, “North?” she confirmed and pointed at the distant, endless desert. “How many days, I do not know. Travelling together, seems safest for you,” she lifted her brows and grinned, “a man’s life is fragile.”

Author: Wendell, Posted: Wed Oct 2, 2019 3:11 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

“That is not how the gods work. They do not pick me up and place me on these shores. Men did that,” Wendell said. “Perhaps some gods work through men, in that case, I am cursed and you choose to walk this wasteland with the damned.” He smiled, smirked even.

“Kes’tral,” Wendell echoed, “you have my name correct,” he told her, lied, but who here was to know other than him? He had seen the jerky and left it. The chances that it was the dried flesh of the last lot of travelers they had run into was just as high as it being desert goat.

The bird-woman picked a horse from the pair and Wendell was left with what remained, a spirited looking black horse with one blue eye and one brown. He had a white star on his temple and four white socks. His hooves were dark, as was his mane and tail. Wendell examined the riding gear, dark and bejeweled with small desert stones, crafted into intricate beads of emerald, sapphire and amber. The flat saddle was gilded with gold thread, the horn tall, prominent. At least they would blend in, he thought.

Wendell couldn’t understand why their attackers had worn such dark clothing in this hot place, but he bent one last time to relieve a man of his tunic, slipping it on over his upper body. It was a snug fit, but with his white tunic fashioned as a makeshift hat, he had little else to work with. The dark cloth wrapped about his upper left arm did not show the blood, though his wound still bled beneath the tight bindings.

It was difficult to leave the pool. Wendell wet his hair and face, stealing one last drink before they were on their way. Kes’tral seemed as reluctant to say goodbye to the spring as he had been, but once they set off, it was none but a bittersweet memory.

The arm on the compass pointed northwest at the top of the first dune. Wendell pulled the reins to see his mount turn to face true north. The coast was east of them, somewhere behind the endless hills of sand, and ahead, they saw nothing in all its glory… miles and miles of nothing.

“We have two options,” Wendell said. “We find wood and drag it back to that dreaded boat or we hope the landscape changes soon, find a town and go our separate ways.” He was certain the woman did not want to follow him to hell and back, but parting before they reached civilisation just didn’t make sense. “Do you know anything of this land?” He asked.

The sun was a small white bead in the sky overhead, too intense to stare at directly. The horizon seemed to glow red in the morning light. Wendell didn’t want to imagine what the day had in store for them, instead he pressed on, glad it was not his own feet carrying him. Cursed or not, he was alive and he wanted to stay that way.

Author: Kes, Posted: Wed Oct 2, 2019 7:59 AM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Once her immediate thirst was quenched, the woman edged over to the first of the bodies, glancing up at the pirate as he gave his orders. Kes managed to salvage a tunic from the man, only spotted with a few dark spots of liquid. Nose-wrinkled, she tugged it from the body and pulled it over her own shoulders. It reached beyond her knees and covered her arms beyond her wrists. The bandit had been a taller man and he’d had wider shoulders, so it hung awkwardly. She removed the smallest pair of boots that she could find and was relieved to find that they fit well enough. His next instruction caused her to pause and she stood up, staring at him for a moment.

At least he had offered thanks. After all, she had saved his life, twice. No matter what the pirate thought she might do to catch the horses, in the end she simply strode out into the desert. Her feet slipped on the sand and she cursed the footwear. Everything was so difficult without wings, though she wasn’t tempted to return to another form. Not for a few days at least. It was going to take time to adjust back to her own humanity; after so long as a bird she worried that another shift would make it even harder to come back.

Standing amongst the dunes, Kes closed her eyes. She could sense the horses and she quieted her own thoughts. It took a while, but the horses eventually turned back to find their masters. They wanted to be lost in the desert, just as much as she and the pirate did; well two returned anyway. They nosed her hands when they saw her and followed her back to the man. She searched the packs of the dead men, throwing most of the meagre belongings aside. There was a little dried meat, which she put away, along with a canteen that she refilled. She found a fresh pair of dark trousers rolled up and stowed in the bottom of one bag, and pulled them, on shielding the rest of her body from the sun.

A second scarf wrapped around her fair hair and the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.The woman collected up a staff that had been abandoned on the ground, turning it over in her hands to check the balance before nodding to herself. Kes kept her distance from the fire as he ate, grimacing as she watched. She was hungry, but not that hungry. Not yet.

“If the gods smile upon you, then why are you here?” She asked, though the words still came awkwardly. Her stomach turned, the sickness of shifting not yet passed. It would take some hours yet, and a good night of sleep before the sensation faded; till then, she still felt as though she had been drinking. Or worse, as if she was fighting off a hangover. “Wendy?” She asked, cautious as she checked the canteen was filled. “That is your name?”

The woman approached the horses, selecting a horse the colour of her own pale hair to mount. She swung up onto the saddle, watching the pirate.“I am Kes’tral,” she told the man. “I heard them call you Wendy though, many times. When they weren’t cursing your shadow of course,” she grinned at him. “Shall we? The desert waits for no one…”

They set off into the day, passing long hours trudging through the sun. She wondered if there was anything they had left behind, but she refused to worry about it. What was left, was left. She was confident that she and Wendy between them had managed to take anything of use. Kes told him about the scraps of dried, salted meat that she’d found, wrapped away within the bags. She looked across at him often enough, wondering if he had a plan. With his compass he directed their journey. Water was scarce, and she considered the wisdom of leaving the spring behind. Looking up at the sky, she sighed. She could return to the wing if they were desperate. She also had no desire to die in the pale, burning sand.

Author: Wendell, Posted: Wed Oct 2, 2019 6:17 AM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

What unfolded before his eyes was nothing short of magic. Though certain death had looked him in the eye, the pirate sat in the sand, alive, heart racing a mile a minute. Wendell stared at his saviour, wide-eyed and speechless. Her features were piercing, with eyes the most incredible shade blue he had ever seen. Captivated by the silver haired creature, for a spell, his injuries were forgotten, until the sight of blood saw pain sensors triggered. The back of his shoulder hurt, but it was his left arm he knew he should worry about.

“Thank you,” Wendell managed, “for saving me.”

Wendell shuffled forward in the sand, hands patted over the body of the man the bird-woman had taken down with his blade. “Quick,” he said, “take something to wear, I’m going to use his turban to wrap my arm,” Wendell explained. “Run and fetch the horses, we’ll need them if we are going to survive this place.”

Catching up to the animals would be no trouble for a woman who could take to the air as easily as a fish to water. Wendell had the girl help him tie the long wrap of fabric about his arm, tight enough that it would stem and hopefully stop the bleeding.

His most valuable find came after searching the second man, who had been carrying an axe. “The gods smile upon us.” Wendell grinned, taking up the handaxe and raising it skywards as if it were a juicy slab of steak. The axe meant that when they found trees, he would be able to gather enough wood to drag back to the boat to commence repairs.

Throwing blades would also prove to be a useful addition. Though the man had a bow, having always preferred ranged combat, lost in the desert with no arrows had forced him to think quick on his feet, defending himself with what little he knew of the blade. He dreaded to think what the outcome of the battle might have been if they had not chosen to wake him in such a rude manner. Wendell wasn’t sure if it was pain from the kick to his gut or his empty stomach that caused him grief now.

Adrenaline ebbed and his vision stabilised. The morning’s events had been unexpected, the first of many trials they were to face. Wendell was sure the desert would throw many more their way. The trio could have just as easily slit his throat, rather than wake him and, it would be he who lay dead in the sand.

Supplies gathered and set to one side, Wendell turned to the shade of the dune and sat to drink from the spring. He filled his belly in an attempt to stave his hunger. A twisted thought crossed his mind as he eyed the bodies of the dead. No, he thought to himself, we don’t do that anymore. But what if… just this once? The devil on his shoulder smiled.

The bird-woman, should she return, would find Wendell hunched over a small fire he had managed to spark using the twig-like plants growing around the spring. He had been careful to use his gloves when pulling the plants from the earth, lighting the dense pile with the use of his tinderbox. Flesh had been carved from the calf muscles of one of the men and sat smoking over the fire.

Wendell said nothing. They needed to eat and, if she would not, he would survive alone. “I won’t die here,” he said, “I want to live.”

The sun moved higher in the sky, the heat of the day as relentless as it had been the day before. There was a strange tension in the air, one that made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “We won’t be able to stay here,” Wendell said, “not for long. Their friends will come looking for them when they realise they have not returned, if they don’t see the smoke first. Gather whatever you want from their belongings, fill one of their canteens with water, quench your thirst and we will make a move.”

It was the smart thing to do, he thought. As hard as it would be to leave the small spring behind them, lingering now could only spell trouble for the pair. He had so many questions, but there was too little time. His belly was full, his thirst had been sated and they had enough supplies to see them through the desert, or so he hoped.

Author: Kes, Posted: Wed Oct 2, 2019 4:49 AM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Her screams were not enough to wake the man as he slept. He had asked her to find people, although she doubted this was what he had meant. There was a sickening thud as the bandit’s boot connected with his middle. She screeched again, wings flapping as she watched. Her heart was pounding against her chest, her gaze narrowed as she hopped from side to side. Afraid to watch, she leapt into the air and circled. The pirate fought well, better than she had hoped and evened the numbers. A body dropped away from him, and the strange black liquid made her gag. If she’d had a nose, she would have wrinkled it.

Was he struggling with the second? Kes dropped like an arrow, flapping at the third bandit, forcing him to fend her off instead of joining his companion in attacking the pirate. However, as a small, thin boned bird there was little that the woman could do. She was forced to retreat, winging her way back around the rocks. She could smell blood. Not the strange, dark liquid that filled the air, but blood. The second bandit dropped, but her pirate was injured.

Kes watched, for a few terrifying moments as the men engaged in battle. The pirate lost his weapon and she closed her eyes. It was like being drunk, when she first changed form. The longer she spent as someone other than herself, the worse the effect was. Her bare limbs were too long, un-coordinated and weak. The stung, rushing with pins and needles, as though she’d had the blood cut off from them, for too long. She stood like a new-born deer, all knees as she wobbled. There wasn’t enough time to come around. Adrenaline had her heart pumping hard and her vision cloudy as it adjusted back from the cones of a bird. The light was too bright, she stumbled, staggering and dropped to the side, rolling across the burning sand. Kes, had curled her hands around the weapon that had flown from the pirates’ grasp.

The bandit had seen something from the corner of his eye and he looked, then turned to look again. A naked woman had appeared from nowhere. He stared, distracted for a moment and it was all the time that she needed to slide the blade between his ribs. He let out a grunt, looking up at her with shock before he dropped to his knees, hands pressed to the blade as he fell.

Kes stared at the man before she turned. The rising sun was harsh against her bare skin, pale as the moon as it hadn’t been exposed to daylight in so long. She pushed herself up from the sand, wincing as it burnt her hands. It was all fresh skin, delicate and new as a babe. This was the problem with taking a form for too long. She staggered sideways before she bent again, throwing up the meagre meal she had eaten. The whole mouse returning back to the desert sand, but coated in the acid of her stomach. She retched again, swearing that she was never eating meat again. The woman edged back to the spring, scooping up a handful of water to clear her mouth, spitting the foul taste into the sand before taking a drink.

She sat back on her heels, long hair falling over her chest as she sighed. Finally, she turned her gaze on the pirate.“Do I have to do everything around her?” She demanded, though her voice was thick, the words slurred as though she’d been drinking hard liquor. 

Author: Wendell, Posted: Tue Oct 1, 2019 10:53 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

A sharp, swift kick to the guts saw Wendell stir. He clutched his side, writhing in agony. What a rude awakening! The man who had kicked him was dark of skin and covered in layers of cloth that made him appear bigger than he was. Wendell scurried to his feet, reaching for his weapons, as if to mirror the movements of the men in front of him.

“He’s alive!” His attacker called to the pair at his back, the trio using a strange language Wendell did not understand.

They stood with weapons drawn, wielding curved swords that seemed to cut through the air in slow motion. The heat of the new day was already unbearable, suffocating and thick. It rippled before his eyes, distorting his vision.

The trio started shouting at one another. Wendell could only imagine they were arguing about him. “I’m not dangerous!” Wendell called, raising his weapons above his head, a long sword in his right hand, a dagger in the other.

His submission didn’t seem to ease the tension of the group, instead causing the man who had kicked him to dive forward in a lunge, thrusting his weapon in Wendell’s direction. Wendell side-stepped the swing, tempting his attacker to brave another step that saw him move into range of the pirate’s swing.

Wendell brought his long sword down hard, slicing into his attackers shoulder. The stranger cried out, his life ended in a fell swoop as the pirate’s dagger was driven into the crying man’s side. He fell off the blade and onto the sand, motionless. Wendell gasped as he caught sight of the blade that had ended the man, finding that the metal had been painted with a strange black liquid that looked almost blue in the first fingers of morning light.

The remaining pair ran for their horses, their sudden movements causing the animals to bolt. They gave chase for a time, only to pause near the top of the dune. Wendell hesitated, unsure as to whether he should give chase or guard the small spring with his life, after all, it had saved him so far.

When they turned back, his drumming heart beat quicker still. I’m not prepared for this, Wendell thought. I don’t want to die here! He shifted his stance, readied his weapons and prepared himself for battle. The ache in his feet was silenced, weak legs made strong by the rush of adrenaline that pulsed through his veins. The clash of swords made him frighteningly aware of himself and his surroundings, but two against one was still uneven odds.

A flurry of blows followed, the pirate able to block the slower, heavier blades his opponents wielded. He saw fear in their eyes after witnessing the death of their comrade, which had made him braver than it should. Was it arrogance that saw him slip, hesitating just long enough to see the tip of a curved blade lick at the back of his right. shoulder.

Wendell hissed, twisting to drive his dagger into the neck of his attacker, only to expose himself to another blow. This time the skin on the back, upper part of his left arm was split, causing him to release the dagger. It fell away with the dead man, buried in his throat.

The pirate didn’t dare pause, forced to defend himself once more. Whatever fear had existed in his enemy’s eyes was now gone, as if the cloaked man could taste victory. Panic set in, his thoughts were a blur. Survive, block, fight back! These small, desperate thoughts raced through his mind, hunger and weakness forgotten, only for Wendell to find himself backed against the wall of the dune that had provided shelter that night.

His long sword was thrown aside after an overpowering swing by his attacker made contact. Wendell raised his hands, pleading with a glance, silent.

“Please,” he said, “you attacked me first!”

Author: Kes, Posted: Tue Oct 1, 2019 6:26 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

He followed and she was relieved. He looked bloodied and beaten by the time he dropped down beside the stone and found the small source of water that rose up from a fissure in the ground. She had been able to sense the water when she was closer to it, not just see it. Around the spring, more of those dry desert plants grew and she watched them with caution. Something about everything in this dusty place was off, and she almost regretting leaving the ship behind, almost. It had been her first opportunity in months and she was damned if she wanted to spend her entire life as a hawk. 

Perched on the stone, she watched him drink. She quenched her own thirst, but it was hunger that made her wings weak. Birds were supposed to conserve energy and in her attempt to help the man, she had flown far and wide on an empty stomach.He shuffled closer and she could see him eyeing her up, as though he were hungry. She turned a stern eye on the man, if he tried something, he was in for a surprise. The sand shifted and battered the pair of them. She turned into his shoulder, lifting a wing to shield her face and eyes from the worst of it. She screeched, as soon as the wind dropped she jumped back into the air.

Find people? He had said. Well, if he was sure. Before she had even flown beyond his vision; the man was asleep. Kes couldn’t blame him. The thermals didn’t drop overnight, because the vast, empty heat of the quartz desert remained. Kes drifted beneath the stars, following the keen nose of the hawk, long after dusk had fallen. Her hawks eyes weren’t as good in the dark, and she struggled as she flew; using careful beats of her wings to prolong her journey.It was the scent of fire that caught her attention. In the dark, she circled a small camp. They were roasting something on a spit and she couldn’t resist. Kes dropped from the sky, tore a strip of cooker meat from a man’s hand and fled the group with a screech.

The stranger was on his feet, shouting after her, pointing to his companions. She tossed the strip into the air, caught and swallowed it whole. It would sustain her, enough for now at least. He had told her to find people, and she lingered over the campfire, until the group of three men started to pack. They shouted to each other, excited to try and catch a prize.

If she could have rolled her eyes, she would have. She went slowly, weaving back across the dunes and it took the best part of the night. For them to follow her with their bags, their horses and supplies. Kes circled back, pausing only to drop down and end the life of a small mouse. Soon, she hoped, soon she could eat cake again, or bread… something coated in sugar and delicious.

The new dawn had started to crest the horizon by the time she could see the stone, the spring and the man she had left behind. She screeched and flattened her wings, speeding like an arrow back to the man from the ship. She screeched again, flapping hard as she hovered overhead. Three figures rising from the sand behind her. Find people he had said; and she had delivered. She just hoped he had a plan. What would he have done without her?

She couldn’t help but wonder and winged her way over the stones, hiding behind the tallest point. Kes perches, half-hidden and hoped that the man was a decent fighter. She had thought so, from the time she had seen him on the ship. 

Author: Wendell, Posted: Tue Oct 1, 2019 6:18 PM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

The desert was a strange place. Only having marveled at it from a distance in the past, Wendell was struggling with its true vastness. Miles and miles of nothing stretched further than the eye could see. How was it this place could be so peaceful and yet so deadly? Sand got in everything, his clothes, his eyes, even his boots. It was hot, insufferable and rubbed the skin raw.

The wind off the coast offered little in the way of relief, yet he found reason to be thankful, especially an hour into the journey when he had finally decided to sit and take a rest. With no water in his canteen, staring out at the coast had been a torture all of its own. Through his clothes the sand was hot, but bearable. Hands hardened by years of rope-burn did not feel pain, but his feet were a mess, red, raw and stinging.

He took the red sash he wore about his middle and used it to clean and bind one of his feet. He considered the right his lead foot, worth protecting. Up and walking once more, the man had removed his tunic and fashioned it into a makeshift turban, protecting his sunburnt face from further damage, leaving his arms exposed to the worst of the heat.

Wendell made a point of avoiding any of the native flora and fauna. Being that this terrain was unfamiliar to him, he did not want to risk unnecessary injury or poisoning. Desert snakes and insects were at the top of his list of things to avoid, however, he was most careful of the stick-like plants and anything that flowered.

The hours fell away and as the coast disappeared from view, the cool air seemed to pass with it. His compass was the only tool at his disposal that could lead him back to the ship, clutched tight in his right hand. In survival situations, Wendell had always been warned that shelter was of the utmost priority, followed by water and food,l. His stomach tightened uncomfortably, parched lips echoing his body’s longing for water.

A glance skyward saw the man follow the flight path of the hawk. What did the bird see from up there, he wondered. Might they have been better to stick to the coast where they would try to fish or search for different types of sea life, crabs and shellfish? There were many reasons to stay close, but in reality, Wendell had doubts that he would find any fresh water there.

Hours into their journey, the hawk had escaped his sight. Smart bird, he thought, save yourself. It was a few minutes before the animal returned and Wendell found himself squinting up at the sky once more. The bird spiralled down towards the earth, choosing to perch on the man’s shoulder once more. The creature dropped something on his folded shirt and, for a horrified moment, Wendell thought the filthy animal had sicked-up on him.

It squawked and took off again in the direction it had come from, this time keeping the man in sight. The way the creature looked back told him that it was one of higher intelligence, that he should follow. The march across the dunes was a laborious torture that left the man wishing the sky would darken soon and with it, some relief from the heat might follow. How disappointed he would be to find that this was not the case.

The dunes dipped down, as if to fold in on themselves, providing what the man could only assume was shade. He found his tired legs re-energised by the thought of some relief from the scalding sun, choosing to run towards the darkened shadow. Wendell tripped, rolling down the face of a hot dune, only to pause for a minute, as if to assess his form and wait for signs of injury. On his feet once more, he closed the gap between himself and the shadow, falling against the sand, expecting to find it cool.

Though the sun no longer licked at him from overhead, the sand beneath him was almost as hot as that which lay exposed to the full brunt of the elements. “Curse this dreaded place,” he mouthed.

The bird sat at the corner of his vision, dipping its head, pecking at something on the ground. Wendell stole a moment's rest before moving to investigate, forced to blink and rub his eyes to make sure what he saw was not just a trick of the mind. “A spring, here?” He spoke, already crawling on his belly to move closer.

The man submerged his face in the water, the small pool its own heaven in the midst of all this hell. He cupped his right hand, having placed the compass in the right pocket of his trousers, and scooped the water into his mouth, an animated attempted to quench his thirst.

It was only day one, he thought then. What was the plan? Even if he found a tree, how would he secure the materials he needed to repair the boat without the right tools? Wendell took his canteen and filled it to the brim before the lid was once again fastened. He lay on his back, staring up at a cloudless sky. “I’m going to lose my mind in this place,” he said, as if speaking to the bird. “I’m going to lose my mind and you’re going to pick my bones clean once the desert has taken from me all I have left… my life.”

If he left the spring, he risked losing their only water source. Yet to stay meant a slow and insufferable death. The Oathkeeper Crew had half starved before, lost out at sea after an attack in the night that had left them with only one mast. It had been a strange time and forced them all to partake in a meal of one of their own, the kind of stuff nightmares are made of.

Wendell glanced at the bird. It was slim, even with all those feathers which, once removed, would only leave it smaller yet. “You found this,” he said, hand buried in the shallow pool. “I wonder, bird… can you find people too?”

He needed help, he knew that much. His best bet of survival was finding people, people he could trade with. Wendell had little in the way of currency, but he needed an axe. The bird was valuable, he thought, perhaps even enough for trade.

Wendell wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but he awoke to darkness, covered in sweat. He bent to take another long drink from the spring and sighed. The bird was out of sight, but he had no fears that she was lost, the spring was their lifeline, one to which he knew the animal would return.

Disappointed to find the nights were as bad as the days, Wendell chose to find rest once more. Tomorrow is a new day, he thought, he would consider his options then.

Author: Kes, Posted: Tue Oct 1, 2019 8:41 AM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

Kes looked across at the pirate, her head tilted to one side. Foolish man, he had earnt the wrath of his Captain and now look where he was. She’d had time to scout the area that they’d landed on, and there was little to sustain her, let alone him. She flexed her arms and feet, having sat still for far too long. The sun was hot, and she was glad of her covering. How long had she lived on that cursed ship, trapped? Whenever there vessel had gone ashore, she’d always been locked away. With kind words and gentle hands of course but secured none the less. Now, now she was free.The pale sand shifted below, lifting in the breeze that washed in with the tide. She watched the blood clot slowly on the back of his head, gathered up his belongings so that they were dropped closer to his side, and retreated to wait. How long was he going to sleep for? Kes glanced at the sun, scowling with concern. If he slept much longer then he was in danger of burning. He needed shade and she was in no position to provide it.Finally, he stirred and she sat up, was he alright? The wound on the back of his head had worried her, but at least he was moving. He found his feet and looked up. The man seemed to pause before summoning her. Kes considered her options, pausing before she relented. With a quick beat of her wings, she lifted into the air and dropped into a swoop. She glided across the sand, lifting at the last moment to land on his arm, but not without making her displeasure felt.He flinched and if she could have, she would have laughed. He teased and she flapped at him, a warning. He insisted on dragging the ship out of the sea while she perched, watching silently. Eventually, he started to move and she flew, landing on his shoulder. Why waste her own energy, when he was easily able to carry them both. As they moved inland, Kes lifted off and fought to rise into the air. With so much heat she was able to find thick threads of thermal air to carry her. With regular checks on the man, she was able to scout a larger distance across the rising dunes. His search for water, shelter and food, was going to be a difficult one. She almost felt sorry for him.Hours passed and in the distance, she could see a curve in one of the dunes. Not much, but a pocket of desert that was sheltered from the sun. She left sight the man and bent her wings in, eager to see if the feature could offer anything in the way of water. From a distance, she could see water between the rocks. With a final glance at the man, she sped forward. The hawk dropped from the sky to the shade cast in the desert. Really, there was little here but it was better then nothing. Hopping around, she examined the trickle of water that rose up from the rocks. A spring. She dipped her beak to drink before taking the largest mouthful that she could carry.Kes returned to the skies, winging her way back towards the man, though it took long enough as she found the right thermals to conserver her energy. Finally she returned to him, dropping onto his shoulder. She met the man’s gaze and promptly emptied her beak, letting the water fall onto his shirt. She gripped him gently with her talons and took off once more, hovering overhead before winging her way in the direction of the spring. Circling back she waited to see if he would follow.

Author: Wendell, Posted: Tue Oct 1, 2019 12:00 AM, Post Subject: Oathkeeper [O]

A sharp pain tore through the man’s head, causing him to wake. Wendell squinted at the bright light, shielding his eyes from the sun. Everything hurt, but it was his parched lips that stung with an intensity that made him suck air through his teeth. What nightmare was this? He reached up and pressed a finger to the back of his head, finding the hair of his crown knotted and dry. Delving deeper, he touched a finger to an open wound and gasped again, drawing his hand away to find blood. Where was he?

Waves crashed against the shore a few feet from him, his trousers waterlogged and heavy. A small prey bird sat at the edge of his vision, squawking, as if to laugh at his misfortune. “The Oathkeeper,” he muttered, looking up and down the shore for the galleon. He had been considered one of the vessels crew for the better part of six years. Disagreeing with the captain had landed him in hot water from time to time, but nothing quite like this.

Abandoned to unfamiliar shores, Wendell staggered to his feet. He looked down the beach, taking inventory. He had seen his fair share of nerdowells come and go from the Oathkeeper crew, but there had been friends too. “Caed…” he mouthed, bending to take up the canteen of freshwater someone from the crew had left him.

Wendell took a long, greedy drink from the canteen, his tunic wet with spilt water by the time he was sated. I must savour what little is left, he thought, only to drink again. The canteen was empty by the time it fell against his hip moments later, the lid swinging precariously from a small leather arm attached to the bottle. Wendell surveyed the wreckage, noting first and foremost, the hole in the side of his boat, hooked to a rock it had crashed against upon meeting the shore. Had there been a storm?

He bent to pick up his pack and wrestled with the contents to pull forth a small compass, the screen misted with liquid that had become trapped beneath the glass, heated by the desert air. With care, the pirate opened the compass up and cleaned the screen before closing it shut again. A small, red finger pointed north and he looked up the coast as if to commit the shape of the land to memory. His curse was lost to the wind. May it find the vessel and follow its crew to the edge of the known world, Wendell thought.

“Compass, whetstone, weapons,” he mumbled, going through his things. There really wasn’t a lot to find.

The bird squawked again, a hawk of some kind, with yellow eyes and dark brown speckles dotted throughout its plumage. Wendell flinched. He recognised that bird, it had also belonged to Caed. He touched his tongue to his teeth, emitting a long, loud, sharp whistle and raised his arm. The hawk flew up to perch on his wrist, only for Wendell to drop his hand with haste. “Farrr!” He hissed, turning his arm to find the birds needle-like talons had pierced the skin. Small beads of blood pooled at the surface of each tiny cut and ran down towards his fingers.

“I guess that’s why Caed always wore gloves, huh?”

Wendell reached into his pack and pulled a pair of gloves from the bag. He slipped the right one on and fastened it at the elbow, the other tucked into his pocket, before summoning the bird again. The hawk came to him, just like he had seen to do time and time again with his shipmate. “He must have thought you good for something,” Wendell said, not quite sure what. “Roasting.” He teased, and the bird flapped its wings as if it had understood him.

The ship was dragged up onto the shore. For as far as the eye could see, Wendell could not spot a tree in sight. Finding the right supplies to get the boat seaworthy was going to take some time. He knew it was dangerous to risk leaving it, but to stay in this heat and with little in the way of food, could only equal a slow and painful course of starvation. I need to find water, he thought, and began his journey inland, using the compass and the landmarks around him to map a course.