Chương 47: Oasis

Was it an oasis or a mirage? It is a mirage. Were the riders enemies or strangers? Enemies. Unknown. Bearing weapons. Wielding magic. Always expect a hostile encounter. Should you fight them? No. We are defeated before we ever fight. They are not demons, nor an demon aligned race. They should seek an understanding. Should I… no, I cannot offer surrender. That's foolish.

"What are you mumbling?" Garvin asked. Liesel ignored him. She exhaled. It's a mental exercise. It is a mirage. She kept her eyes fixated on the leader, the tallest Rakamel among the riders, as she tried to catch the rage that had touched her within the reaper's cage. The Rakamels were rather strange beings. They were not territorial people, preferred to live in small communities, and were self-sufficient in most regards.

Because of their unfettered devotion to the holy scriptures of Garvanam's Deities, which denounced Rakamels as an unholy race whose presence brought calamities to their surroundings, and prophesied them as Harbinger of the end times, they travelled from one realm to another every few years, seeking a land beyond saving, where even their accursed race could prosper. In that regard, perhaps one community had succeeded, if it was truly their settlement.

Because of how rare Rakamels were to find, broadly the Empire considered them non-threatening traders or borderline extinct creatures, one of the rarest designations for a non-human race. So even if one was persecuted for a heinous crime, they'd never be given the death penalty, and would rather be presented to the High Senate, who would try to fix them. That was to say, Rakamels might be among the few rare people who could be considered a stranger. Not that Liesel would ever entertain such a thought.

The riders stopped fifteen meters away from them, taking on a formation. Spellcaster at center, already preparing the spells. Their skin was covered in red fur, and their stature was rather slim and tall. Yellow-gold irises filled the entire eye socket. Their features were just human enough for a human eye to differentiate between individuals, but distinct enough to never pass one as human. The leader was the broadest among the riders. He trotted a few feet forward.

He first spoke in a language that Liesel didn't understand. And then, he tried a different one that Liesel could barely understand.

"He's asking the head of our group to come forward," Liesel said.

"What should we do?" Yehia asked.

"We converse," Liesel said.

"How do you know their language?" Kurvam asked suspiciously, and surprisingly, earning a few nods from her team, including Farki Jan.

"I have learned many," Liesel said." Why?" Kurvam's voice was sharp as he took a strong step towards her, pointing his finger at her face.

"You are just common blood, a weak and slippery eel, who is always lucky enough to be spared from her demise. Why and when did you get the chance to learn so many things? It never ends. You always have one more thing hiding somewhere." Liesel could see what Kurvam was trying.

"Are you intent on making me regret my decision?"

"I am just asking why you know a demon—""I wish to talk to the leader, strangers to our land," the Rakamel rider said in the smooth Argish vowels. It was soothing, as if he was humming a lullaby. Liesel took another deep breath.

"Stand on the side, Vera." She shifted her attention towards Rakamel. She squeezed her soul's puncture tightly; as the pain bloomed, she found a trace of that moment in the reaper's realm. She guided that anger, not to her throat, for it might seem threatening, which was not her intention. She guided it into her feet, feeling her energy drain instantly. Fortunately, Kurvam didn't make another scene about his stature. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Liesel took a step forward, and as her left foot touched the sand, a ripple echoed through the wasteland. A hum in the Shade of Souls. Even the expedition crew behind her shifted uncomfortably. For a brief moment, there was surprise on the countenance of the Rakamels. They needed to feel something more than just a group of exhausted humans when they saw her and her team. Liesel wouldn't classify her act as a technique or ability she had learned.

Her soul existed in a Shade of Reality, and after interacting with the reaper, she was somewhat aware of it. For now, she didn't understand the consequences beyond that it exhausted her mental focus the same way as her exertion of the Control over Materiality. One beside the leader uttered something that Liesel didn't understand, but it was an angry hiss. The leader said something, but the second-in-command shook his head vigorously, hissing.

"He believes you are a decoy, and not the leader. As a gesture of trust, I will ask again: I wish to talk to the Head, as I am one." Liesel approached him without pause. It seemed to anger him, who, Liesel imagined, was their Observer, and he could probably see how weak she was on paper. The leader trotted a few steps forward and hopped off his strange steed. He stabbed his spear into the sand. He stood there, raising a brow, as he observed Liesel's blade. She didn't doubt he felt the demonic presence in it.

She unsheathed her sword and stabbed it into the sand. He took a step forward, and so did Liesel. They met in the middle, both unarmed. Only one side still had the threatening posture, and if only for show, Liesel should have asked Jaisel and Fiya to prepare a spell.

"Drahk, the Spearheader of Striders and the Guardian of the Gurvantha Caravan. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss."

"Liesel Wyrn, I am the functioning leader of the expedition team," Liesel said. She considered saying she was a Mind Slayer to make her side feel a little more weighty, but she doubted it would do anything really except make the Rakamel suspicious of her.

"Quite a greeting for a group of exhausted strugglers, wouldn't you say?"

"For a group that has crossed the entirety of Sirmal's Desert, a feat we never imagined possible, it would be an insult to greet them with anything less." He grinned.

"Expedition of what kind?"

"My job was to clear a path for the scholars who would seal the tomb. Now, it is to survive."

"If your enemy is the Ash Lord, we might be an unlikely ally. If you swear peace, I will be honored to welcome you to our home." He extended his sinewy hand. It was much like the Door Guardian's hand, Liesel realized. She hadn't known this was a feature of the Rakamels, but they were not the enemy class that needed to be studied deeply. She held back a sigh of relief. A knot still lingered in her heart, refusing to believe there was finally a respite.

"I do," Liesel said, glancing at her team. She settled her hand on his, expecting him to attack her now. He didn't. Drahk shook it, which might be a very human tradition. Before she felt relief, she wanted to make things simpler for herself, even at the cost of some dignity. She glanced at Kurvam.

"But I take no claim over him. You can speak with him or leave him in the desert."

"Is he colluding with the Ash Lord?" Liesel shook her head. His fingers clenched, digging into her soft skin.

"Is it not unbecoming of a leader to abandon uncertain elements of their group?"

"He was the leader of the expedition, but we have collectively decided he is not fit to lead anyone, and so as second-in-command, I am the functioning leader. I cannot claim any authority over him, nor vouch for his actions. For the rest, I vow peace on their behalf." His claw eased, as a faux smile stretched on his face.

"Perhaps I feel your uncertainty. I shall converse with him individually." Drahk let go of her hand, shifting his attention to Kurvam.

"Do you swear peace, stranger yet to be our guest? If you do, we will be honored to welcome you to our abode."

"What if I don't?" That question was directed at Liesel, which was an oddly frustrating thing to do when someone was talking to him directly.

"I believe we will find solace, and you will have to wait here until we decide to leave," Liesel replied.

"Don't you think they're gonna butcher you all in their tents and make soup with your blood?" Kurvam asked, shifting his eyes from Liesel to Garvin and the others.

"They look like cannibals to me. Are you all really going to enter strange demons' homes?"

"Cannibal?" Drahk frowned. Of course, he was confused, as even if they were, it shouldn't be an issue to humans on the verge of collapse, after all.

"Under the imperial definition, anyone who consumes humans is a cannibal," Liesel said. She shouldn't even know this unique perk of their language. It was against the norm, and the only reason she did was that she had read the definition of ' cannibal' in a dictionary of non-human language.

"So he is..." Drahk seemed somewhat taken aback by the brashness of Kurvam's statement. After all, normal people, even if they thought something like that, wouldn't utter it to another person's face, out of courtesy. Just when I thought he was making an effort to be bearable. Liesel didn't know how someone could make an effort to be better on even the most minimal level and still act like this. But she had seen what the entitlement produced.

He was not the worst person she had met, because he wasn't half as sheltered and twisted as the offspring of a Senator.

"I claim no relationship to him, as I said," Liesel said again.

"Yet, your companions nod," Drahk was impassive in his accusation.

"I promise peace from them, but I have no answer to their inherent tendencies," Liesel said.

"They will act better once rested. A week in the wasteland, fighting swarms every night, it burdens their psyche. I hope you will be a little kind."

"They'd not do the same for us, would they? Even in need, they bear resentment to strangers."

"Their ideas are immaterial. They will heed my command unquestionably."

"So, would you welcome us if we offer peace?" He towered as he stalked her. The expedition crew was shifting too, prepared for a battle they'd never win.