The Wanderer's Path: Return of the Beasts

Chapter 6

Dry harsh winds carried the eye watering sands of the Amun desert north through the outpost village of Galabadan. The small border village was built around the last watering hole this far north of the treacherous desert. Despite the preaching bullshit that Commander Tullius had raved on about when posting Fannad and his men here, they all knew why they were really here, to die. Not a warrior’s death. No, that glory was long past their reach. They had been posted here to live out the rest of their days until they grew old, withered, and their dehydrated carcasses buried underneath the never ending, unforgiving sands, their names forever lost within the passing of time.

“One eye!” Fannad scowled at the man striding towards him. He was dressed in the dreary brown robes of the Amun civilians, and had begun waving his arm in the air like an inbred boot shiner.

“That’s Captain to you Harold,” he growled.

“Right, Captain One eye, sir,” the man mocked with an overexaggerated salute.

The Captain’s scowl darkened, serving only to increase Harold’s grin. How have I not strangled you to death yet? If you weren’t so damned good at coming up with crazy ideas and blowing things up, you’d be yet another dead memory buried within my heart.

“What is it?” Fannad asked, already knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

“Just thought you’d want to play a game or ten of dice sir,” Harold said with a wink.

“And lose another week’s wages to you and Hale? I think I’ll pass thanks.”

“Come on sir, that was months ago. We were just having a lucky run.” Lucky my ass, you robbed everyone blind with your scheming tricks.

Fannad watched a group of men duck inside one of the large, permanent tents in the distance, the men’s sleeping quarters. One of the men noticed the two of them standing beside the outpost’s sole, crudely built watchtower, now half buried in sand.

“Is One eye in?” The voice called over the northerly gusts.

“That’s Captain!” Fannad shouted, the soldier responding with a sharp salute. Fannad growled silently as he scratched at his thick sand filled moustache, I knew I should’ve wore that shawl.

“You sure you won’t join us captain? Not much else to do.” Fannad shook his head as he watched one of the Amun women shoulder two large pots of water from the well, her curled black hair cascading behind her as she walked steadily under the overbearing weight. Even the women here are bred strong. No wonder Brave is so at home here.

“Suit yourself Captain.” Harold surrendered with a salute before heading off to enjoy the plundering of his men’s wages. In another life, I’d have you shining a legion’s worth of boots. Then again in another life you’d be Captain and able to lead your own squad of sappers, every one of them just as crazy as you are.

Fannad watched his shadow slowly creep past him, much like my life, passing me by one slow agonising section at a time. Grains of sand slipped between each other in a never ending cycle of dominance, each grain claiming its rightful place on top, to be blown with the wind, its world shattered as it found new surroundings, buried underneath thousands of others just like it.

The sands melted away, sinking into the ever changing desert floor, some being cast into the air spinning and twisting in the wind. Wait, that’s not wind. A tremor shook through the outpost as if the very earth beneath them had begun to breathe itself to life. Fannad could see desert hardened Amun nomad’s racing from tents looking to the sky as if expecting to see the stars falling from the sky.