Tales From a Thousand Worlds

Peregrine and Blade made their slow way back down the canyon, towards the deserts at the base of the rocky uplands, and the oasis. The moon had at last broached the horizon, showing large and full as it made its gradual climb into the night’s sky, illuminating the landscape around them with a silvery sheen. The heat of the day had given out, replaced by a chill that had settled upon the lands. The air hung still and empty and silent, while above the stars glistened like frozen fire, sharp points of light.

Follow this link for Part Five of The Oasis of Broken Bones

“You can not leave.”

The guard at the gate barred their way, holding up a hand to stop them. A tall man with a thin beard, he had a long scar across his face. The moon had not yet risen, and with the setting of the sun while they had collected their gear and mounts, the only light to be had came from a pair of flickering torches set to the wall of the gatehouse. They lent an ill favoured aspect to the guard’s scarred face, making him appear gaunt and his eyes to gleam alike unto that of a snake. His scimitar he gripped firmly though his spear and shield lay propped against the wall of the gatehouse.

Follow this link for Part Four of The Oasis of Broken Bones

The well worn trail made its twisting way up through the rocky slopes, following along washes and beside ridges where sparse shrubs clung to the dry, barren earth, hardy and thorny things that struggled to survive in such harsh environs. As they rode around one jutting ridge, ahead a canyon loomed into sight, one that cut down out of the rocky uplands. Halakir led them into it, a place of shade from the burning sun. The walls of the canyon grew ever higher, and further back into the hills an overhang thrust out. Beneath it the canyon had been walled off, a structure formed of solid mud bricks into which had been set a stout wooden gate.

Follow this link for Part Three of The Oasis of Broken Bones