Phantom Freedom

1. The Forever Desert

Some nights, stars were the only things that mattered. They guided and offered their unbiased judgement. Stars smiled down upon the world, even if the world wasn't smiling back. Once the sun was gone, the stars were there.

Far above sandy hills, the stars twinkled in an expanse of dark ocean. It served to highlight the complete lack of water and nourishment. Yet, the sand continued on forever, more like a sea than even the seas themselves. No one would dare to cross a sea on foot. That was the fool's path; anyone stupid enough to do that would drown beneath the waves. Here, the waves didn't move to drown. They waited, but it was the waiting that killed the fools in this ocean.

Many wouldn't expect it, but the desert was cold- bitterly, unbearably cold. In the day, the sun beat down and threatened to burn, but in the night, the moon swore to freeze anyone who dare breathe beneath it. Both were a killer, but the sun killed fastest. It took all the water, even if it had to steal it from the ones brave- or stupid- enough to cross through its frying pan.

"Never play in the desert," parents would warn their children. "It will eat you alive."

It did; like a fire or a beast, the desert devoured soul after soul. Anyone could get lost in the fields of sand, even someone who knew about navigating. It was safest to follow the stars, but in the day, they abandoned the travelers below, left them for dead with only a simple "maybe you'll make it to another night" in parting.

Those crossing the expanse now, guided by those stars for only a few more hours, didn't have a choice. A choice would mean that they'd be anywhere else. Well, not anywhere. They would never- could never- go back to the place they came from. Not back in the muddy holding pens. Nor back at the end of a whip. They'd never return to the ground beneath royal, leather, heeled boots.

They crossed the desert because they had nowhere else to be. Nowhere else to escape, and they had to escape. They had escaped, but where was the freedom they had hoped for? They were caught in a web, the spider- dehydration- catching up faster than the soldiers who had been chasing them.

The royals had probably pulled their men back already. The guards would have given up by then; they weren't stupid. It wouldn't make sense to run into the endless desert to retrieve a handful of slaves who were not fit to survive on their own. The kingdom had plenty of slaves to spare, and if they needed more, they could just ship a fresh batch of them in. That would be far easier than crossing the desert. So, no, they would not be hunted- not by the royals' men anyhow.

The group was led by a man who was only marginally healthier than the rest. His soul hadn't yet been beaten out of him; his eyes still captured light and held life; his build hadn't melted off of him. The leader was still young: twenty-five at most. There were few like him in their midst. No one was older than forty or younger than fifteen. The old ones, weak ones, and young ones couldn't make the journey. This was the group of the healthiest former slaves. These people kept their strength and hope while all others lost it.

They would sing and dance with joy- they were free! -if they weren't so tired and weak. For the first few nights, they had sung such beautiful songs. Music had long since been lost on them, but they knew how to chant:

"We're free, we're free, oh god we're free!"

This didn't feel like freedom, though. The desert crawled on and on. It was as if it were a living thing, walking as they did so that they could never find an end to the great beast. Was there an end or was this truly endless?

One of the men from the middle of the group quickened his pace. He matched the leader's steps and looked down at the younger man. "Where are we going, Song? Are you taking us home?"

"Our home was destroyed a long time ago," Song said and nodded up at the dots in the sky. "We go wherever they lead us."

"What if the desert never ends?" asked the follower.

Song breathed a laugh and stepped over a jagged rock half buried in the sand. "Not possible. All things end, even this sand- just like our home. We'll find water soon, I'm sure. We'll find the end in our time."

Soon, thought Song as the follower mixed back into the group, we'll find a home. Whether it be salvation or death. Maybe death would be salvation in itself.

He shook away his thoughts and continued to lead. They were no good anyway. Then again, thinking was all he could do besides walking out here. In that way, this was exactly like his time as a slave.

Song found himself wondering over and over why these people followed him. He had no idea where he was going, so why did they trust him to save them?  Not so deep down, he knew the answer because they were just like him. To them, anything was better than the life they had been forced into; even dying out in the middle of these fields of eternal sand would be better than living even another day back there. It didn't matter where they went as long as it wasn't back.

On they walked, through the night, guided along the trail the stars offered. As the sun began to peak out from the eastern horizon, it brought with it the heat the desert was most known for. The sand glowed an almost amber color as it reflected the sun and soaked up its warmth. Quickly, the stars, the moon, and the darkness lost the war over the sky.

The ocean above burst into a bright blue. As the sun made its incline, waves played just above the sand far ahead of the group. They all watched those waves with desperate hopes for a water source, always prepared for the reality. They never got close enough to find any water. It would have damaged their morale if they didn't all know there was none anyway.

This desert was a venomous snake, offering what they wanted and needed most just out of their reach, so they stumbled into its space. Soon they'd get bitten. They were the same as the bony dogs that used to chase their tails on the paths between workplaces. It never ended.

Song kept up the façade of confidence so he didn't worry the others, but he was uncertain. Would he fail these people who bet their lives on him? They trusted him, cheered him on as he played round after round with Death. Death never wavered in her certainty. She knew that Song would lose eventually, and all the lives he had used for the gamble would be hers.

He followed the stars, but of course, they couldn't be trusted. They lured unknowing insects along a promising path and watched them get tangled in the spider web that allowed the sun enough time to drain them. It was all a game to the stars!

Song glared up, silently cursing the blasted things that were too afraid to show themselves now that he understood what they were playing at. He could practically hear the complaints the others were keeping buried in their heaving chests. He understood. Their water husks were as empty as their stomachs. Their feet, and the rest of their bodies for that matter, ached. Their skin was burnt, and the sun was cruelly bright.

They were not having fun.