her head. “You know we are bound by our promises,” she said.
“Then promise me. I want you to take me home.”
Her head had fallen forward to accept his punishment. Now she raised her face to look at him. Her nose was crooked, and a scar ran down her cheek over her lips. “I promise,” she said.
“And this will be my promise,” he continued. “On the night of the full moon, I will wait for you, when the light strikes the surface of the water.”
With his back to the window he couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought he saw a blush pass over her cheek.
BLOOD OASIS
A TALE OF DARK SUN
Seawater moved against the hull planks like a lover’s whisper. The yellow sun of Athas was bright, and a westerly breeze stretched Horizon Finder’s sails, guiding the three-masted carrack toward the seaport of Arkhold.
Unexpected spray whipped up from the bow, and Jisanne laughed. She had untied her long brown hair, letting it blow loose and free. She drew a deep breath with a sense of wonder that these sailors did not feel. They didn’t understand how lucky they were to be there.
Captain Hurunn, a wealthy minotaur merchant with a large gold ring in one floppy ear, said, “A long voyage, a full cargo hold, even a net overloaded with fresh fish-time for me to settle down and enjoy my profits.” Even when he was in a good mood, Hurunn’s voice sounded like a gruff growl. From what little Jisanne knew from her brief previous visits to this glorious time, she doubted the minotaur captain would ever settle down.
With gentle reverence, she touched the opalescent crystal mounted to the compass stand. “The navigation crystal always finds its way back here.” She was never sure how clearly the ship’s captain and crew could see or hear her.
Hurunn snorted. “It’s what the navigation crystal is for-to guide its owner home. It’s a simple enough spell.”
Jisanne shuddered at his casual attitude, forcing herself to remember that these people did not automatically hate and fear magic users, regardless of whether they were defilers or preservers. Whatever disasters had robbed Athas of this beauty had not happened yet. The world was still fresh and alive, as it Athas had been before its possibilities were stolen.
Horizon Finder entered the mouth of the harbor and crewmen gathered on deck, waving at the numerous fishing boats, feluccas, and galleys. They were all eager to get back to port.
High above, the elf lookout yelled, his already-thin voice an even higher pitch. “To arms-sea serpent off the stern! It’s following us!”
As the crew scrambled to snag harpoons and bows, a fearsome triangular head rose up, streaming seawater from its golden scales. Its hinged jaw dropped open to reveal long fangs. A short distance away, a second monster rose up.
“That’s two sea serpents, not one,” Hurunn growled. “I need a better lookout for my next voyage.”
The pair of serpents glided toward Horizon Finder, intent on attack. Seeing the swollen net of still-squirming fish suspended by a rope and winch above the stern, Jisanne had a sudden realization. “The fish-the serpents want the fish.”
“Of course they want the fish. They always want the fish,” the minotaur said, not overly concerned. “I was hoping we’d make it all the way to Arkhold, but these waters are infested with cursed sea serpents. A small enough price to pay.”
With a deep bellow such as only a minotaur could manage, Hurunn commanded his sailors to swing the boom over the water. The sea serpents pressed closer to the dangling net, snapping at the spray in the carrack’s wake. “Dump the catch!”
As twitching fish rained down, the serpents frolicked in the water, greedily feasting. From the rails, the sailors jeered at the monsters, and Hurunn complained-out of habit-about the money he’d just lost. The breeze picked up, blowing the ship safely into port and leaving the sea serpents behind.
Ahead, Jisanne stared at the thriving city. The fortress of a forgotten order of ancient knights sat atop the highest point overlooking the blue harbor. People had gathered down at the docks to welcome the sailing ship. A few ambitious traders even took small boats out to meet Horizon Finder, hoping to strike a sweet deal with Captain Hurunn before he reached the quay.
The minotaur handed Jisanne a flask of wine. “Here, to celebrate. Myself, I don’t drink the stuff.” He snuffled through his bull nose. “Clogs my sinuses.”
She took a swig of the richest, headiest wine she had ever tasted. Everything seemed so unreal.
As the carrack tied up to a long stone quay, Jisanne saw the colorful market stalls full of fresh fruit. Musicians played instruments, their competing tunes a raucous clash of sounds. Jisanne took another drink of wine and glanced down at the pristine navigation crystal. Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t want to lose any of this, but she knew…
As the scene around her faded, the moist salty air in her nostrils became harsh, sour, and dry. The puffy clouds in the sky shimmered into high blowing dust. The skirling music and the babble of marketplace sounds turned into the moan of desert wind.
“No!” But her cry was just a whisper, words lost in time. Jisanne clutched at the fabric of the world, digging deeper into the arcane magic, not caring where she found the power to hold on for just a few moments longer, but it was no use.
The blue ocean, the lush harbor, the vibrant city were all swallowed into dust. The waves became dunes, the horizon only an empty basin of powder, the Sea of Silt. Exposed by scouring winds, chains of ivory vertebrae and skulls with chipped fangs marked the long-desiccated carcasses of sea serpents. The minotaur captain, his elf lookout, and the rest of the ship’s crew didn’t notice they were vanishing. She was slipping in time, not them.
That Athas, that of the Green Age, was long gone.
Jisanne dropped to her knees on the deck of a skeletal wreck against a crumbling stone quay. Overhead, the bloated red sun was like an angry coal. The ancient flask of wine in her hand was as parched as the landscape. Next to her, propped up by a flat stone, rested a clay bowl half full of her dark, drying blood; the dull shard of the navigation crystal was immersed in the liquid.
Jisanne felt weak and alone, drained. She had powered the magic of the crystal by drawing on her own life force, not caring about the cost of her spell. She had restored the lovely, idyllic landscape of Athas for a time… too short a time.
And now she had to face reality again.
The crowds cheered in the stands of the Criterion coliseum, whistling, calling for blood. The spectators were all the same, regardless of their social status: powerful templars in special travertine seats near the sand of the arena, aloof patricians who whispered about Balic city business in between bloody combat matches, and unruly commoners crowded in higher seats under the hot red sun.
They roared their approval when Koram strode out of the gladiators’ gate, wearing his white ceremonial sash with the sign of Dictator Andropinis dyed in red; he hated the sash, but was required to wear it. He adjusted armor made of sheets of petrified wood, then looked at the stands with passive disgust. These same people had cheered for him when he was elected a praetor of Balic, and they had likewise cheered when he announced his plans to liberalize the city’s laws. Later, when the scheming foreign praetor Yvoluk, darling of Andropinis, disgraced him on false charges, the fickle crowds had cheered just as loudly. Then, after Koram had been shaved bald and thrown into the Criterion to battle monsters, they cheered again, expecting him to die… and now they cheered each time he emerged victorious. No one had expected him to survive for seven months in the arena.
The people of Balic would cheer for anything, Koram thought, so long as blood was involved. He felt no
