Note: I got tired of looking at this unfinished. Sorry about the crappy ending.

Welcome to the Wastelands

I fixed my scarf to stay around my nose and mouth as the afternoon wind picked up. Settling my hands on the hilts of the crescent blades slung on my hips, I scanned the area, trying to figure out how much time I have until the storm reaches me, and how long it’ll take for me to reach the Wastelands.

About five miles ahead, the vast expanse of golden sand seemed to darken into the reddish-brown stone of the Wastes. I had three hours to get there; just enough time.

I scrambled down the dune and up another, focused on the red-brown horizon.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - (Time elapsed- two hours and fifty minutes) - - - - - - - - - - - -

Reaching the rock, I glanced around, my eyes narrowed. The Wastes were dangerous, even for neutral messengers. A figure walked up to me.

“Hello, welcome to the Wastelands,” she said. “I will be your guide.”

I looked at her critically. She was dressed from head to toe in metal and leather, and carried a large axe as if it weighed nothing. Her eyes caught my attention. The scleras of her eyes were black, followed by white irises, and a black line of a pupil. The overall effect was somewhat disturbing.

“Come along, boy. Step lightly, now,” she said, or rather demanded, turning around and walking away.

I caught up to her and pointed out, “I hate to be rude, but I’m female.”

She looked at me from the corner of her eye and said, “My mistake.”

“I get it a lot. Being in a field which mostly guys do doesn’t really help.”

She chuckled, a slight echo following it from her mask. We continued on in silence until the sun started slipping below the mountains.

“Shouldn’t we find a shelter? I don’t know about you, but I’m not nocturnal. And I honestly don’t want to know what exactly comes around here at night,” I said.

“The monsters are myths. The only monsters here are bandits and rogues,” the guide said sharply, as if I had offended her.

“I really don’t want to run into those either.”

“You won’t have to worry. I and the Haqri will keep you protected.”

“The Haqri?” I questioned.

“A group of soldiers stationed around the Wastes to keep messengers and the like safe.”

“Stationed by whom?” I inquired, heading, whether my guide liked it or not, to a rock outcropping that would provide a great place to sleep.

“My lord, Tmoas demanded it.” The guide followed after me without complaint.

“Tmoas? That’s the man I’m delivering this letter to.” I slipped into the shelter. The guide sat at the entrance, her body covering most of the outside, probably to keep me hidden from view.

“I figured. The red scarf gives you away,” the guide looked outside. Despite the metal armor, I saw her body tense. “Stay quiet and in the shadows,” she whispered before getting up.

“Ah, t’is a draug,” said a voice I didn’t recognize. The language was interesting and sounded similar to a code I learned a couple of years ago. The letters are switched around to make different nonsense words. The voice had said, “It’s a guard.”

“Twah’d oyu twan, sept?” asked the guide. What do you want, pest?

“Ouch, taht truh. Mi stuj kloonig het smensegr.” Ouch, that hurt. I’m just looking for the messenger.

I watched as the guide shifted her grip on her axe. “I n’cat tle oyu od taht. H’sse derun ym portcetoin.” I can’t let you do that. She’s under my protection.

Subconsciously, my hands drifted to my crescent blades. I gritted my teeth together and tensed, preparing to fight at any minute.

“Lewl, I tebtre eb niogg,” the voice said, before their feet turned and walked away. Well, I better be going. Then, in pure common, he said, “It isn’t worth the effort, anyway.”

I sat confused for a second before I felt a cold blade get pressed against my throat and a hand cover my mouth. I slipped out my blades and flung them backwards, hoping I haven’t lost my touch. There was a grunt and the blade was pulled away. I turned around to see the damage I had inflicted. It wasn’t much, just two gashes along the figure’s arms. I brought my arm up as far as the low ceiling of the shelter would let me, and brought it, along with the point of my blade, into what I was assuming was the figure’s neck. There was a slight scream before their vocal cords were damaged, after which they only choked and gurgled.

“I’m impressed, kid,” said the familiar voice of the guide behind me. “Generally messengers can’t do that kind of stuff.”

“This is just to pay for my apartment,” I explained, yanking out my blade. I cleaned it on the edge of my scarf before re-sheathing it.

“You’re going into a different field?” she asked, reaching for the now-dead figure next to me.

“That’s confidential,” I said quickly as she dragged the body out of the cave.

“Going into something illegal?” she asked. I opened my mouth to give a biting retort, but she said, “I know, that’s confidential.” I think she was smirking, but I couldn’t really tell.

Hn, no wonder no one wanted to take this job.

Pronounced Hah kree'.
Pronounced Mo' as.