Desert Gods by blackjack

Published on Kiith Iopia on the 19 April 2001

There was an odd lightness to the tickle of the sand upon his face despite its harshness, a strange blanketing sensation to the wind even as it buffeted him violently. The desert vista was at the same time beautiful and unbelievably cruel after the verdant jungles and forests of Hiijaara.

He placed a hand on the edge of the great rent in the metallic hull of the once-great smashed ship and felt a prick of pain. He cursed to himself and withdrew his hand, watching the blood flow down between his fingers from the red stripe down the center of his palm. A single drop fell down through his hand and fell onto the sand which had blown into the shell of the crushed prison ship. Like us, he thought bitterly. The blood of Hiijaara, dripping down onto the sands of this forsaken place.

He turned back to the dunes. Far away, on the top of one giant dune, a sand devil was twisting the grains into a funnel, a rising swirling mass of ordered chaos. It was an enthralling show, and he became so raveled in watching the miniature tornado that he did not even notice Jaela.

"Hkareu?" she asked softly, making him jolt backwards and turn to her. He stiffened ever so slightly at the sight of her, self-conscious.

"I was… just looking at the view," he explained quietly, letting her step up to the rent in the hull of the vessel. She looked out and nodded.

"I see why," she said. "It's almost beautiful."

"Yes," he agreed, "yes it is."

"I still hate it here," she said, with a hint of anger that made him curious and disturbed. Jaela did not get angry easily, and when she did the result was often none-too-pleasing.

"It's not that horrible," he tried. "We're managing, with the Council. Perhaps in time we'll even expand out of this metal shell of a city. Hmm," he scoffed, "First City indeed."

"But I still hate it. It's dry and hot, and all that's out there is desert. Even if we did get out of this place, where would we go? Where else is there to go but Hiijaara? That's where our homes are, that's where we belong. Not on this blasted dustball of a world. The Taiidani picked a hell of a world to send us to."

He sighed. "I try to tell the Council, we're stagnating in here. We'll die eventually. There aren't that many supplies, and we certainly can't grow our own in here. Inside, it's all metal, no soil. Outside, sand."

"Exactly."

"But," Hkareu continued, "beyond this enormous desert, there's lush soil, mountains, water - life. This world is not completely dead. We can live here, we can flourish."

She looked at him sadly, their eyes meeting for a long moment. She looked away. "You have grand dreams, Hkareu. The Taiidan sent us here to die. You said it yourself, that's what we'll do. We'll just die."

He was becoming frustrated with her lack of faith. "I tell you, Jaela, we will either die or flourish, and if I can convince the Council to send out explorers, then we will grow and prosper. We can remake our lives here, on this sand and the soils beyond. I won't roll over and die, Jaela. We will make this world ours, then someday we will make the Taiidan fear us again."

He stretched a hand out to the desert. "What do you see, Jaela, when you look out there?"

She looked into his eyes again, glancing once at the desert for a split second. "Sand. Miles of it."

"I see…" he struggled for words. "…I see the future. I see our people, beyond that desert, making our lives anew. Ruling the sands, the creatures, the world. Becoming lords, gods of Kharak. Gods of the desert world."

When we turned back to her, she was looking back out at the dunes. A tear fell from her eye. "Your vision is beautiful, Hkareu. But I cannot see it."

"You will," he said softly, and wiped the tear from her face with a sand-crusted hand. "Someday, you will. For you'll be a part of it."

She smiled up at him, and together they walked away from the gaping maw of the desert.

They would leave for it soon enough.