The Hollow

Alara

Nom knew little of the Ulurians or what motivations of theirs were strong enough to brave an unknown land, but as he gazed upon the port street of their adopted home, he had to admit their efforts had a unique impact. He could not recall the original name of Alara, but he saw remnants of the prior city all around. The Ulurians had scavenged stone, brick, and metal from abandoned buildings, then reconfigured the materials into organic, almost natural-looking new structures, abandoning the old grid layout of the streets in favor of curving walls and paths. They wove grasses, flowers and a scant amount of wood throughout, diminishing the harsher aspects of the man-made materials. Between all these graceful structures wound long ridges and mounds of broken junk, like barrows for the city that had died. And nothing could diminish the dust and dry air that forever blew from the west across all of Mamidi Daruni.

"We'll need more water than we can carry," Nom said to his companions. "Once upon a time this wouldn't be a problem. But the windships, such as Qayid sailed, are all gone, as are the camels that once were common. The road to the city of Rabidi is long."

Ahden nodded. "Unless we can get one of these fresh pack animals, we'll have to find a cart, or other recourse."

Shearwater's crew continued to restock the ship and trade for new cargo from the few merchants in town, but Nom and the three youths had already made their farewells to Tanaga and others on the ship. They now stood gawking on the street at the end of Shearwater's pier, as locals and sailors passed them. The Ulurians were easy to spot, adorning themselves in a natural fashion similar to their buildings, with animal skins, bones, feathers, stones, and other found objects, trinkets presumably from across the sea.

Ahden pointed to some sort of trading post nearby, with an array of barrels, wheels, and bags of grains outside its front door, and he walked toward it, kicking up dust in the street. Inside, an Ulurian woman discussed some trade with a customer, while a similarly dressed man sat and morosely stared into space. His eyes followed the group for a minute as they milled about waiting for the other proprietor to free up, then he sighed and stood up.

"What are you buying, what are you selling?" he said.

Ahden spoke, "We need casks of water and traveling rations for the four of us for an extended journey, and a pack animal to haul it."

The man scoffed. "No animals here, unless you want your pick of tiny lizards. Can get you a cart." He spiraled his hand at Ahden, then crossed his arms, waiting.

Ahden reached into a satchel and pulled out several currencies from the places they had traveled. The man looked at the coins, then up to Ahden without easing his scowl. Ahden looked helplessly to his companions.

"That sword," the man threw into the silence.

Ahden stammered, "N-no, I couldn't—"

"What is your training?" he finished.

Ahden was confused. "Oh. I trained under highmaster Gunnar in the court of Whithom."

"I don't know the Gunnar pattern. What's with her?" The man gestured one of his crossed elbows at Omega.

"She, um, is a seer," answered Ahden hesitantly.

"You can see demons, woman?" he asked.

"Well, I wouldn't—"

"Too bad," the man said brusquely. He addressed Ahden again, "Ok, show me your pattern." He abruptly walked through their group, and out the door to the street, elbowing the other proprietor aside as he went.

"Pattern?" Ahden said, looking perplexed.

"The 'Gunnar' pattern, I guess," said Dev. "Your limb-crushing blows and such."