It was hot. Too hot. Far too hot for normal life to go on, and the kind of dry that after ten minutes of walking created a solid wall of desire around the throat, begging for the sweet comfort of a drink. The sand the constantly blew off of the tops of dunes permeated his clothing, his hair, his skin, stinging his eyes and filling his mouth. The Endless Sands ahead, civilization behind, and only a measure of calculated despair to keep him going.

Vladimir was heading to an oasis.

It had been days since he had spoken to another person, and the furtive glances he cast over his shoulder were proof enough that he was afraid of something. The heavy mountain ash staff he held onto seemed to be supporting his muscular frame, and the harp over his shoulder was bearing down with its weight.

It was the heat, of course. Without the heat there would have been a spring to his step, a swiftness and dexterity that all the best bards have, and while Dmitri was not one of the best, he was good. His clothes, well-worn but well-mended, would have made him look dashing, and the likelihood of a song escaping hi s lips as he walked was high. Bt here, in the desert, there was no time for such revelry. In the desert, there is time for moving, and time for dying.

And avoiding the dying was why Dmitri was here.

He had thought that he had lost them, he truly had. He was hundreds upon hundreds of miles away from the Northlands, away from his family, away from the assassins that he brother had sent after him. It was through no fault of his own that he’d imagined a kind of separate peace; his life in exchange for his disappearance. His hand reached under the back of his shirt, resting on the small scar right above his right kidney. He should have known better. The first attack had come out of nowhere, a crossbow bolt missing his head by centimeters as he played outside of a tavern in a roadside village. The second had been in the city, Cascadia itself, and a small boy he had given the apple to had died in agony. It was at that point he had begun to flee. Away from the cities, to the very ends of the earth. A young woman had taken a knife meant for him in Istan City, and this oasis was all that was left. A quiet, secluded place to meet his fate.

He crossed golden sands, perspiring heavily. Ahead, the reflection of the oasis in the crushingly hot sky mocked his feeble efforts to get to it. He had run out of water almost two hours ago, and though the oasis was close, he had seen the black-clad figures following in his wake. There was no time for rest, only time to run.

Ahead, the first palm tree broke over the dunes, and the oasis came into view.

Arthur had been in the desert for a day and a half now searching for the great sand wyyrm he had heard about. It was a real test for a blade master he had finally found it and the fight had ensued soon after but in the end he could not be denied. The fight had been long and tough especially in this heat but he had killed it and now what remained of it lay on his fire by the oasis. He stoked the fire and then took a drink from the oasis it was hot today very hot he might have to transfomr into hsi hlaf dragon from to keep away the heat. He noted a man running his direction and black figured closing behind him Arthur stood up and hooked his word to his belt and came out of the oasis the man stopped at seeing him and Arthru yelled," Run man run don't stop those guys look liek trouble". HE ran forward and got in front of the man his sword drawn the Heron Makr gleamed in the sun the black figures came onward and he said," Boy get to the oasis I'll handle these guys they will eb no match for a blade master".

The blue waters sparkled merrily in the midst of the oasis, a little ocean of color amidst the treacherous seas of gold. The palm and date trees around the watering hole were ripe with fruit, practically untouched by the hands of men. In the center of the oasis, next to the lake, sat a man.

He was tall, though not as tall as Vladimir. He might have been a few pounds heavier, but it was a muscular build, a warrior’s build. Shaggy blond hair fell over blue eyes, and the man was busy cooking some kind of large, scaled monster, though the part cooking was obviously just a section of a much larger whole. A gleaming sword hilt stuck up from a sheath on his belt.

As Dmitri entered the oasis, the stranger stood up, and approached him. Vladimir stopped. Had the assassins known his destination? Was this the anvil to the approaching hammer?

“Run, man, run! Don’t stop, those guys look like trouble.”

Vladimir turned to see the five dark-clad figures approaching from over the dune. The stranger ran past him and planted himself between Vladimir and the pursuers, drawing his blade.

“Boy, get to the oasis. I’ll handle these guys; they will be no match for a blade master.”

Dmitri took another look at the stranger. The man couldn’t be more than a year older than he was, nor any more experienced. And while the heron-marked blade rested easily enough in his grip, he didn’t have the smooth arrogance of a man who was a true blademaster; therefore, the sword was either hereditary or stolen. Since he didn’t seem like a thief, the stranger must have inherited it, which said nothing towards his training. It would be a shame to allow a stranger to die needlessly, if valiantly, so Dmitri stopped running, and grabbed the man by the shoulder.

“Look, KID, those men following me? They’re either some of the most highly trained assassins in the Northlands, or a decoy group meant to lull you into a false sense of security. No offense, since I don’t know you well enough to give any, but you should take daddy’s sword and hide. If you’re intending to fight with me, well enough, but try not to make it too easy for them to kill both of us.”

With that, Dmitri headed further into the oasis.

When the boy said somethign Arthur just replied," We all have to die sometime". As the five men drew closer Arthru focused on the sword and took in the flame and the void becoming one with the blade and everything around him. He said," Dance with me Death Iam ready". He flippped the sword in his hand as it now became a part of him his deadly grace would now come into action. The men appraoched and one said," Move boy were not after you now move aside". Arthur said," The only way you'll get me to move is through my cold dead body". One man came forward and another man said," Watch it Bryyne hes got a heron mark". The man said," He is to young I'll end him quickly". The man took out a long dagger and Arthru fliiped his sword and went into a stance. The man came forward and Arthur jumped and rolled to the side. Arthru then started to circle the man jumping out of the way when ever the man came forward. Finally Arthru saw his opening and went forward and jumped into the air bringing the sword straight into the mans neck and then jummping out of the way in case of second attack. The first man fell and Arthur said," Anyone else".

Dmitri heard the stranger’s response behind him.

“We all have to die sometime.”

Dmitri shook his head, and moved past the date trees. At the banks of the pool of water he stopped, knelt, and drank a handful. He was parched, and the water soothed his throat. Perfect refreshment before a fight. Dmitri went over to the fire and stoked it. No sense in letting an advantage go out. The date trees were hanging low under the weight of perfectly ripened fruit, and Dmitri picked a handful. He chomped into the first one, feeling a surge of energy course through his weary limbs as the fructose entered his stomach. He ate the rest of the dates quickly, and turned back to watch the stranger. He had already dispatched one of the black-clad figures. It must have been as he thought; the assassin team had hired a bunch of drunks in town, promised them money, and sent them as decoys. Not surprising, considering the fate of the assassins in Cascadia. The team had gotten overconfident, and he had called the city guard on them. In the ensuing confusion, he had managed to slip out. The following teams from then on had been much stealthier—they’d sent in a decoy team to distract him, to absorb any damage he could dish out, and when he’d finally dealt with them, they would swoop in to attempt a killing blow. He’d been lucky so far. Lucky enough that by now he was completely unsurprised to see the second team coming around the far side of the oasis.

He smiled, and sat down, pulling his harp from it’s case, and plucking the first cord. Nothing like a dirge to meet the day with.

Dmitri strummed the first notes on his harp, and watched the assassins approached. It was the same team as last time—the leader, with his badly scarred face, odd sense of humor, and assassin’s honor, now seemed like the closest thing to a friend Dmitri had. Of course, this friend had been promised a sack full of gold to kill him, but given his mobility, even the familiar sight of the bone-hilted knife in his hand was comforting. In a morbid kind of way. Dmitri began to sing.

“There were three rauens sat on a tree,
downe a downe, hay downe, hay downe,
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
with a downe,
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
They were as blacke as they might be.
With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe.”

The assassins had entered the shade of the date palms. The three he hadn’t seen before had heavier weapons, swords and handaxes. The silent ebony man who always followed the leader was hefting a mace, and the leader himself was twirling the dagger between his fingers.

“The one of them said to his mate,
Where shall we our breakfast take?
Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a Knight slain under his shield,
His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their Master keepe,
His Hawkes they flie so eagerly,
There's no fowle dare him come nie.”

The stranger behind him was now busy with the four survivors of the decoy party. His chances of escape were limited now, limited enough that he decided not to move. It was nice in the shade, and the strains of music coming from his harp were pleasant. He kept singing.

“Downe there comes a fallow Doe,
As great with yong as she might goe,
She lift up his bloudy head,
And kist his wounds that were so red,
She got him up upon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake,
She buried him before the prime,
She was dead her self ere euen-song time.
God send euery gentleman,
Such haukes, such hounds, and such a Leman.”

The assassins came around the pool, and made a circle around Dmitri. He put harp back in its case, and stood up, leaning on his quarterstaff. He smiled at them, and beckoned them forward.

The leader of the assassins grinned malevolently. The presence of malice in the air was thick as lead, and sweat started to weaken Dmitri’s grip on his staff. The solid rowan beneath his hands, and the tension in his gut, kept him focused.

“Well, I’ll admit you’ve caught up with me. If you surrender now, I’ll go easy on you.”

The Scarred Man grinned, his tongue licking over his rotten teeth. The other assassins chuckled to themselves, and advanced forward. The Scarred Man stopped them with a hand.

“Vladimir, lad, I think it’s time you give up the jokes. You must know by now you cannae escape. Even if your would-be rescuer could get here one time, the boy’s not anywhere close to the blade master he wants to be. Put down the staff and die like a man.”

He offered a hand to Dmitri, and Dmitri considered it thoughtfully. He had been running for almost three years now, watching for the team that was inevitably following his every movement. How easy it would be to just surrender. There was neither a heaven nor a hell waiting for him in death, just easy oblivion. He wouldn’t even know what he was missing once he died. Dmitri looked to the side of the assassin. The fire was still burning, flickering sparks floating up to the sky above.

It hit him like lightning. He suddenly had a plan.

[Self-deleted for triple-posting]

[Self-deleted for triple posting]

Arthur headr singing behind him and said to the grou infront of him," Its been fun but I have a wyyrm to eat". He hedld out his hand and said," Fire Ball". The fireball hit one of the men and then he jumepd and killed two of them in quick succesession and then finally killing the other one by slicing his throat. He then wiped the blood off his sword and ran to his camp and saw three other men besides the other man their and he came up behind the man and said," Easy as pie I must say I wasn't impressed by your decoy group, but then again I have seen better". He looked at the three men and saw the scared man holdng out a hand and he siad," Enough with plesentries I have a wyyrm to finish eating and you are in my way so I suggest you leave now before I send you to the mother".

The explosion from the front of the oasis echoed around the pond like a thunderbolt. The assassins grouped around Dmitri were momentarily startled, and the three flunkies began to fan out to find the source of the noise. Dmitri smiled to himself. With the flunkies gone, he gave himself good odds to manage to enact his plan and make an escape. Of course, he didn’t count on overconfidence in strangers getting in the way.

“Enough with the pleasantries. I have a wyrm to finish eating, and you are in my way, so I suggest you leave now before I send you to the mother.”

Dmitri groaned. The stranger was crazy enough to just walk up to the third most powerful assassin in the Dark Roots Guild, one of the five big guilds in the north. The cheapest of the five, admittedly, but still an impressively powerful figure. The Scarred Man turned to the stranger, and the knife reappeared in his hand. This was the best chance Dmitri was going to get, and he took it.

The first swing of the quarterstaff obviously took the Ebony Man by surprise. He managed to get his mace halfway up, but the eight foot long heavy mountain ash pole snaked through his defenses and clipped him on the temple, sending him rolling off to the side, dazed. The quarterstaff was the best single combat weapon in the world, proven time and time again when simple peasants could disarm and defeat trained warriors. Dmitri had spent years with a staff as his closest companion, and while he wouldn’t claim to be an expert, he’d won his fair share of village contests during his travels.

The Scarred Man half turned, stepping back to keep Dmitri and the stranger in his line of sight. Dmitri flashed a grin, and pole-vaulted over him, using the quarterstaff as a lever. He landed heavily on one knee, the soft golden sand cushioning his fall, and spun around, looking at the assassin and the stranger.

“Stranger, whatever you name is, thanks for the help, and good luck to you. My suggestion? RUN!”

Dmitri turned and sprinted towards the campfire. As he approached, he reached out and grabbed a burning branch of the fire using his quarterstaff to scatter the rest of the fire onto the base of the nearest stand of date palm. Fire quickly grew around the sun-bleached wood, the dry air aiding the fire’s rapid growth. Thick black smoke began to pour off of the pyre, and Dmitri turned and ran through it, heading towards the path back to Istan City. As he ran, he lit further, smaller fires, leaving a trail of destruction and a cloud of heavy smoke to shield his path.

As he ran towards the beaten road back to civilization, he saw the scorched and blooded corpses of the decoy party. The stranger still wasn’t as good as he thought he was, but he had potential. Dmitri was certain he would see the man again someday.

He ran, ever onwards. Away from the burning oasis and crystal-clear waters under the scorching sun.

[Self-deleted for double posting]

When the man ran Arthru said," Well sine he is gone I get to have all the fun". The man wit hthe scar smield and said," Boy you don't know what your up against". Arthru smield and said<" Oh I don't my little scared friend neither do you, but since Iam in a good mood I will leave you to the hot sand. The man smield and said," What makes you think you will get away". Arthru smield and said," This". He brought his anger forth and transformed his scales began to shwo brightly and hsi dragon liek blue eyes looekd directly at the man and he said," Good bye scarred man". He leapt up into the air letting his dragon wings take him off leaving the suprised assasins surprised he spat fire into the air to show that they had not seen the last of him.