The Sahara Chronicles #1: The Young Foreigner (Available in full on Amazon)

PART I: THE YOUNG FOREIGNER

When he read about it in the libraries of the towns he had travelled to on his way, he noted with great surprise that it was simply an island – or "an island-country", as it was described. There were cities and towns and villages spilled across it, but he reckoned there weren't many of them, considering its size.

The best feature of this kingdom, he had noted with much fascination, was how these settlements were constructed: there was the germain's palace in the centre and around it lived the common Alorian people!

As he approached the exit of the shipyard, Yor saw two uniformed guards standing on either side of the gate, which blocked passage by a heavy rod sitting across it supported by holders on both sides.

Yor paused; he was used to the security check by now—it was something he encountered in every city he had passed so far. From the folds of his tunic, he produced a parchment and handed it to the nearest guard. The woman unrolled it, read briefly, it seemed, before handing it back to him and waving to remove the hurdle. Yor passed through and very soon, he was inside a town. An enquiry told him that it was called Melvis.

"They all sound the same – the names of places in Aloris – see," continued the denizen of whom Yor had asked. He looked to be a few years older, more tanned than Yor himself, and rugged in physique, had a broad forehead, and a rough but pleasant accent to his voice. "You seem nu 'ere – are you headed 'ywhere in particular? The Germain's palace, perhaps? That's easy!"

Yor shook his head with a smile. "No, sir, I'm not. Consider me a tourist in your humble country." Inwardly, he wondered, 'Does this man take me to be a merchant?'

"Then, y're right on time, young man!" The Alorian thumped him on the back. "It's festival-time in Aloris! We 've lota like you comin' over to our country to see it! Promise me you'll stay here until it's over!"

Yor was touched by this sentiment and he bowed politely. He at once made up his mind to do so and promised such. The older man offered to take him to an inn he knew and Yor agreed.

The man turned around. "Follow me – it's not too far from in 'ere now. It was made for passerbys like y'self, y' know—with food, rooms, and everything!"

Yor was fascinated as he walked behind his new companion; he looked around and saw how peaceful everybody looked. Young girls and boys ran around with joyful giggly expressions on their faces, trying to catch one-another in sport. On the other hand, there were older denizens walking by hand-in-hand. The streets slowly turned into a marketplace as the two men walked on; he could hear shopkeepers shouting out names of unique and exotic wares he knew were available only in Aloris.

want," he told Yor.

The young foreigner contemplated this as he looked around. His eyes stopped at one of the stalls that had something green and yellow in its cart.

"Yes, I think I will," he said in response to his companion's query. He made a beeline for the cart and stopped directly in front of it. On it, lay a bunch of small round apples that he'd never seen before. "What are they?" he asked.

"That's Shaori apples, my friend!" replied the cart's keeper. "Found like it only in Aloris! Nowhere can you find them! Pick an emen of them – go on!"

Yor was very tempted to do so, especially since they looked fresh and inviting. Also, he'd heard that the special apples found in Aloris were medicinal.

"How much is half an emen?"

"Three quarters of a pier. Want a bag, sir?"

"No, thank you. I can manage. Two emen, please."

The Alorian denizen accompanying him at once leaned in with concern. "Young man, trust me, you'll need a bag."

Yor smiled at him reassuringly. "It's all right, I really don't."

Both the older man and the shopkeeper exchanged confused glances and a shrug.

"All right, suit yourself."

The shopkeeper weighed an emen of the apples and handed them to Yor, who had removed the belt he had been wearing between his tunic and his trousers. Now, he held it towards the man, pocket opened.

The shopkeeper gave him a quizzical look.

"Please put them in, sir," clarified Yor.

The man was still sceptical, but put the Alorian Shaori apples into the tiny pocket anyway. Much to the Alorians' surprise, they went right in and disappeared! Both the men gaped.

Yor smiled. "It's a gift from my master," he explained.

Soon, and just as he was recovering from his shock, Yor's Alorian companion led him away from the cart.

"You want anything more, sir?"

"No, thank you," replied Yor politely, very excited. "Let's head to this inn you spoke of."

"It's 'bout quarter kammel away now. I know the innkeeper, will set you up very soon." The older man paused, thoughtful, before going on: "I do not know if I need to tell you of this, sir."

"Well, what's it about?"

Suddenly, the mood around him seemed to have darkened considerably.

"Sir, are you a physician of any sort?" asked the Alorian. "Have you cured anybody so far?" His tone sounded doubtful, which was expected since Yor looked so young. The latter was, after all, only nineteen years of age.

"Oh! Yes, that I most certainly have!"

The man paused and turned around with an uncertain rise of his eyebrow. "How successful were you?"

"Well, if you mean whether all my patients have survived or not, then yes, they have. They're leading very healthy lives now, I assure you." He swallowed before adding, "If you need any recommendation, I'm sure Captain Andreas of Grant will be very happy to give you. I've just travelled with him for over a month now."

The man still looked unsure; but then, he nodded his head. "Yes, it's probably somebody like you we've been looking for."

Yor sensed something wrong. "What's the matter, sir? May I know, please?"

The older man stopped in his tracks as did he. "Yes, yes. Well, in the neighbouring village, there's a man whose wife has fallen ill and no physician all over Aloris – nay, Sahara – have been able to cure. You say you're a healer – how are you with unusual diseases?"

"Unusual how?"

"A disease that cannot be cured."

Yor looked solemn now as he thought this over. 'I wonder what kind of a disease this is. Is it anything related to the rumours I've been hearing about?'

He finally looked up and nodded once. "I see. Well then, I do believe I must go and see to this myself. Will you take me there – wherever this patient is?" 

~*~

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