Arnimos awoke with the rising sun, its heat assailed him with its furious glare. Arnimos rose and looked around the camp, he could see John packing up some of the last bits of it.

  "Finally up princess?" John said. "Sun's coming up so we should get going, just three or four days out from the next town,"

  "Is it going to be like the last one?" Arnimos said.

  "This one's far bigger," John said. "One of the colonies of the Empire in the region, it should be a safe place to stop,"

  "Is it going to be a simple trek there?" Arnimos said.

  "Shouldn't encounter anything strange," John said. "Didn't see no evidence of anything,"

  Arnimos gave a nod and rose from his spot on the ground, he helped pack up the camp then they set off.

  The desert was strange to Arnimos, there was nothing like it in Elysium. The constant heat, the blazing sun, the sand, the lack of clouds or even easily accessible water. It was a wonder anyone survived in this place, especially since there were few things one could light to keep away Night. The other Regions of the world, each crafted by a Tome, were all different and their makers obviously intended something with them though Arnimos knew not what the point of this Region was.

  Endless dunes and a handful of jutting rocks were all they saw as they walked until they crested another dune and saw something strange. Large plateaus suddenly came into view but they were not made of desert rock and instead seemed to shine like mirrors.

  "Damn it!" John said.

  "What's wrong?" Arnimos said. "What are those?"

  "Stretch of Mirror Plateau's," John said. "Of course some appear right in our path,"

  "What's wrong about them?" Arnimos said.

  "They say if you look into them they show you all of your life and your greatest fear," John said. "And it just so happens that the natives consider them holy ground. So let's get out of here before-"

  "Halt outsiders!" A voice cried.

  They both turned to where the voice came from, they saw a man forming out of the sand.

  "Why have you come to our holy ground?" The man said.

  "Just passing through," John said. "We didn't mean to,"

  "What are you?" Arnimos said.

  John looked at Arnimos.

  "Don't go asking-" John said.

  The man raised a hand and silenced John then looked at Arnimos, he stared for an intense and long moment before the sand forming his body stabilized and began to look human. He had tanned skin and a short well-kept beard. His clothes were thin and white but he had a deep-blue sash over his shoulder. As Arnimos stared at him something felt off, there was great power within this man.

  "I am a Vishashi," The Vishashi said. "A storyteller,"

  Vishashi stared at Arnimos once more.

  "I had not expected such company today," The Vishashi said. "Come with me, we shall lead you to where you need to go,"

  "Might I ask what you are?" Arnimos said. "Arbeross or?"

  "I am nothing but a Storyteller," The Vishashi said. "My race matters little,"

  "Could you give us just a moment," John said.

  John pulls Arnimos in close.

  "You know these guys?" John said.

  "No but," Arnimos said. "Something feels different about Vishashi,"

  "This all feels like bad news," John said.

  "I agree but they would certainly beat us," Arnimos said. "So we have to listen,"

  "Just keep an eye out," John said. "First sign of trouble and we scram, they've killed outsiders for less,"

  "Agreed," Arnimos said.

  They separated from their huddle.

  "We'll go with you," Arnimos said. "If you can assure our safety,"

  "No harm shall come to you," The Vishashi said. "That I can assure. Now follow me,"

  The two men nodded as the Vishashi turned and walked into the Mirror Plateaus. The way the Vishashi moved was strange, it almost made it impossible to follow him. He almost seemed to fade into the desert if you ever took your attention off of him. They were led between two of the great plateaus, they averted their eyes so as not to look into them. After a while of walking they arrived at what seemed to be a camp placed in a large crater from which you couldn't see any of the plateaus.

  The camp was made up of many tents with various people roaming around and performing various tasks, 4 large lizards laid in the shade of the crater resting. The lizards were massive and had scales similar in color to the sand.

  "Whole tribe of natives here," John said. "They even got 4 Sand Dragons,"

  "Those are Dragons?" Arnimos said.

  "That's what people call them at least," John said. "Where are you taking us Vishashi?"

  "To see the chief of this tribe," The Vishashi said. "To know if he will send Kalach's to guide you,"

  "We're going to meet the chief of this tribe?" Arnimos said. "Anything we should know?"

  "Treat him with respect and so shall he treat you," The Vishashi said.

  They descended into the crater and the various tribesmen watched them. They approached a large tent at the center where two men stood in front with swords and bolt-action rifles. The Vishashi gave a wave and spoke in a strange tongue, the guards nodded and stepped aside allowing the men inside.

  It was large with a solid wood floor with a rug laid on top, inside atop a large floor cushion sat a man who wore clothes that were mainly white though he had a streak of a vibrant yellow across his chest. There were a few more floor cushions sat across from the man. The Vishashi gave a wave and sat across from the man, John and Arnimos followed.

  "This is Imal-Kalum," The Vishashi said. "Chief of this tribe,"

  "I am Arnimos, son of Lord Tikow," Arnimos said.

  "John," John said.

  The man looked strangely at the two then spoke in that same strange tongue which Vishashi responded in. It was impossible to tell what exactly was being said but it sounded good, no anger or anything else of the sort. The Vishashi seemed to tell a joke which the chief laughed at, Arnimos and John also awkwardly laughed at it. The conversation continued on for a while until the Vishashi turned back to the two.

  "Chief Imal-Kalum of the Rusted Souls has agreed that 5 of his Kalach's shall escort you to the nearest settlement," The Vishashi said. "However he can not send them until the morning, you are offered a chance to remain within this camp until then,"

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  "Sounds good," Arnimos said. "Why can't we leave now though?"

  "I shall be heading with your group," The Vishashi said. "And there are stories I must tell before I may go,"

  "Where will we be staying then?" Arnimos said.

  The Vishashi talked to the chief then turned back.

  "He shall have a Kalach guide you," The Vishashi said.

  The chief said something and one of the guards entered, the chief said a few more lines as the guard nodded. The guard motioned to follow him and the two rose, as they left the Vishashi turned to them one last time.

  "Sandfather be with you," The Vishashi said.

  "And with you?" Arnimos said back, confused but hoping he got the meaning.

  Arnimos and John were led to an empty tent where the guard motioned them to it, it was to be their sleeping quarters. It was better than their normal camp but not by much. The guard gave a bow then left the two alone, they looked at each other then settled into the tent.

  They sat around as day turned to night, the crater was awash in light. They saw as much of this tribe gathered around a great pyre, the Vishashi approached them as the tribe was gathering.

  "The chief offers you place in the celebration," The Vishashi said.

  "I have a question," Arnimos said. "Why do you speak another language? I thought there were no others in Shale,"

  "Out there perhaps," The Vishashi said. "But within the Desert there is one language that will not be translated,"

  "Why is that?" Arnimos said.

  "Because such is the Sandfather's will," The Vishashi said.

  The Vishashi then bowed and headed towards the pyre where they could see tables being set up now. Arnimos and John looked at each other then got up and went out. They were seated at a table neighboring the chief and a few other old men of the tribe. There were others at the table and while they tried to talk to the two neither side understood the other.

  Once everyone was settled in the chief rose and gave a rousing speech, at least they assumed so based on the crowd's reaction, then sat down as everyone began to feast and drink. The food was good, very good compared to what they had been eating, and the drink was strong but not too strong as to swiftly make one drunk, especially not one's with strong Dichotomies like Arnimos and John. After the meal was finished the Vishashi stood up and seemed to tell a story between drags from a nargile. Once the story was done another round of drinks was delivered and the party began.

  There was carousing and song and dance for an hour or two, but neither John nor Arnimos really got into it and remained near the edge. After some time a few of the women of the tribe, most of them younger, came over and grabbed Arnimos by the hand and dragged him out. He looked back at John who had a small grin on his face.

  "Seems they like ya," John said. "Just enjoy the dance, I know I will,"

  "I don't think they'll be leaving you out of this," Arnimos said as he gave a motion with his head.

  John looked behind where Arnimos had motioned and an older woman stood there, she grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him up.

  Arnimos and John were made to drink and dance for what seemed like hours, their bodies hurt and John's mind seemed buzzed but Arnimos was unaffected by the drinking. Must be the strength of his Dichotomies. As it all died down Arnimos dragged John back to their tent and laid him down, it looked like the alcohol had really gotten to him.

  "You gonna be good like this?" Arnimos said.

  "I'll live," John said. "Had worse benders back home,"

  "I'll trust you to that," Arnimos said.

  As Arnimos was crouched next to where John was laying the Vishashi entered. Arnimos looked back at him.

  "Is there anything else you require?" The Vishashi said.

  "John could certainly use some help," Arnimos said.

  "He will rest it off," The Vishashi said.

  Arnimos scooted away from John who swiftly fell asleep. He took a seat on one of the floor cushions and the Vishashi sat across from him.

  "What was it tonight?" Arnimos said. "I know you told a story but what story would you do for such a celebration?"

  The Vishashi took a deep breath in.

  "It was the final ballad of Kalach," The Vishashi said. "All tribes hear it once every 6 "years" as you outsiders call them."

  "What's it about?" Arnimos said. "Also isn't that what you called our guides?"

  "Kalach is the name of a warrior," The Vishashi said. "The final ballad told of his slaying of the Malish known as the Ivory King,"

  "So warriors are named after him?" Arnimos said.

  "Not exactly," The Vishashi said. "You would only give your child the name Kalach if you were a Kalach or if you believed he would become one,"

  "Is that why the name's are in two parts?" Arnimos said.

  "Yes, to us there are two parts of a name," The Vishashi said. "The first is your father's name and the second what your father believes you will be. There are few exceptions to this rule,"

  "Why are your names like that?" Arnimos said.

  "It is as the Sandfather decreed," The Vishashi said.

  "Why don't you have a second name," Arnimos said.

  "I am a Vishashi," The Vishashi said. "Where I come from matters not, all that there is to me is my stories,"

  The two sat in silence for a moment.

  "Would you tell me one?" Arnimos said.

  "I know not how helpful such tales will be to you," The Vishashi said. "They are our legends passed from our forefathers when they were Reborn into this world, they have little meaning here to those who inhabit this place,"

  "I'll still listen," Arnimos said.

  "Then let me tell you the Tale of Creation," The Vishashi said.

  The Vishashi waved a hand and suddenly great stretches of fabric hung from the walls of the tent. They were adorned with beautiful tapestries depicting some myth. The Vishashi gave another motion and a nargile appeared in front of him, he took a long drag from it then leaned back. His whole demeanor and pattern of speech changed as he did.

  "In the beginning... There naught but the... Sandfather..." The Vishashi said. "In the emptiness... He made sand... From sand he crafted the... Malish... First-Born... In dark and cold they grew... Disconnected from Him..."

  The Vishashi took another drag and motioned to one of the tapestries, it showed strange figures like men but their proportions were all wrong and their bodies seemed to stretch on endlessly.

  "Angry and hateful they... Left Him alone..." The Vishashi said. "So in the dark he made... Kuij... The Night... A being of dark filled with light... The light of creation..."

  As The Vishashi took another draw he motioned to one of the hung up tapestries, it depicted a man as black as ink with a million small glowing holes on his skin.

  "The Sandfather poked... A million holes into them..." The Vishashi said. "To give light to dark sands... Then he crafted a new people... The First Clan... The Machines..."

  He motioned to another tapestry, it depicted a strange group and metal men and beasts descending into great vaults below the sands.

  "The sands too cold... The light too much..." The Vishashi said. "They fled below the sands... They left Him alone again..."

  He motioned to another, this one showed Kuij missing their left hand which sat above the sands and was formed into a fist that glowed.

  "Sandfather took from Kuij... A hand which was skinned to reveal light..." The Vishashi said. "The light burned... It's heat driving the dark and cold away... Then he crafted the Second Clan..."

  Another tapestry, this one showed men in massive bulky armor boarding strange vessels which flew into the stars above.

  "They too fled Him... Clad themselves in steel..." The Vishashi said. "Fled from heat of the desert... And into the body of Kuij..."

  Then he motioned to another tapestry which showed half the world shrouded in dark and half in light.

  "Kuij saw sadness in Him... The light of his hand burned all... Even Kuij..." The Vishashi said. "Despite that Kuij made a sacrifice... Kuij made himself to night, of dark and cold... A dark and cold that fled the light of his hand... One that no longer sees Him or his light..."

  Then he motioned to another tapestry which showed Kuij now also missing his right hand which was now a pale white that sat opposite his other.

  "To console himself from loss... Kuij tore hand from flesh... And scratched it so it may reflect... So he may see some of light in his... Isolation..." The Vishashi said. "And once a year... When moon blocks sun... Kuij can see the Sandfather once more... Until they separate again..."

  The Vishashi took another drag of the nargile then looked at Arnimos.

  "Then from sand he crafted the Third Clan..." The Vishashi said. "We lived beneath His light... For long there was peace until they... The Malish... The First Born... Returned..."

  The Vishashi motioned to the last tapestry which showed the Malish offering strange devices to some men.

  "They tricked our brothers... Made them abandon the Sandfather for homes of steel..." The Vishashi said. "Now only us... The Sandwalkers... Remain true to Him."

  The Vishashi took a long drag of the nargile. He breathed out and his demeanor shifted back.

  "That was the tale of creation," The Vishashi said.

  "What did you do there?" Arnimos said.

  "I simply recalled how my teacher had told me the tale," The Vishashi said. "I had thought that best,"

  "I thank you for the tale but I will be going to bed now," Arnimos said. "What are you though? I still can't figure it out,"

  "Perhaps you will learn," The Vishashi said. "I shall see you upon the sun's rising,"

  The Vishashi left and Arnimos settled into sleep, this was certainly not how he expected his life to be going.