Ibn Sharjar: The Oasis of the Nine Stones
Posted on 29 Nov 2022 @ 8:05am by Atif ibn Sharjar - Merchant of the Al Ashar
Edited on on 15 Jun 2023 @ 6:10pm
Mission:
Ongoing Mission - Planet Obsidian
Location: Northern Lethin Deadlands, Obsidian
Timeline: M3 D06 1715hrs
1995 words - 4 OF Standard Post Measure
Ibn Sharjar watched the waypoints slide off the bottom of the navigation screen one by one as his ship travelled steadily northwest across the stark black glass plains of the Lethini Deadlands.
Contrary to the land’s appearance from higher altitudes lower down he could clearly see there were contours in the glass. In places it was almost rolling, with dips and hollows, other places had ripples and flow-lines, almost like rivers of molten glass had once cut through areas already crystalized solid. Like a river through land or a current through an ocean.
Still other parts of the black expanse had fractures and fissures, jagged openings in the obsidian glass, some looked deep and hinted at its depth and thickness. Some had filled with sand, in those, a few scrubby trees and plants had taken hold, like tiny desert islands in a black frozen sea.
There had been a couple of wider fissures, long cracks that ran for kilometers across the landscape. Deep canyons, their bottoms hidden in shade and darkness.
Surprisingly the blackness of the glass was not uniform, there were hues and shades on the surface, ranging from midnight black, through to charcoals and grays. In a couple of spots, he had even seen some dark blues and deep greens.
Most of the plain was wind-blown smooth, but he had also seen shoals and reaches of glittering glass shards, piled in long crescents or long undulating, almost serpentine, shapes, where the wind had scattered them. In a storm those shards could be whipped up and flung through the air like millions of tiny daggers. And like daggers the wind-driven shards could strip flesh from the bone!
The Deadlands were aptly named Atif mused to himself, he had not spotted any of Obsidian’s larger life forms that afternoon. He wondered what could live out here, in lands that were this desolate and inhospitable. Even on a planet as rugged as Obsidian this was a new kind of bleakness.
Well north of the equator now, the final waypoint, their destination, appeared on the top of the screen. The Oasis of the Nine Stones lay close to the edge of the glass plains, bordering the planet’s northern polar regions. The Sun was sinking, off to port, the fierce bright white heat and glare of the day fading now into a deep dark baleful orange. With a vengeful promise to return anew the next morning, Loki began to burn its way into the black glass horizon.
Atif’s mood had not improved much since the encounter earlier. He had been here long enough to know Obsidian was a dangerous planet. The desert tribes had a well-founded reputation for fierceness and violence. For many of those he encountered outside of Kalara, warring between tribes and their neighbors was almost a custom, an honorable ritual, with respect given on both sides. But the anger and hatred shown by the Fraj-Senni had been something new and unpleasant. It left him disquieted and unsettled.
Half an hour later the forward view began to change, the black plain of glass appeared to end. A patch of sand appeared, the dark glass spread out left and right around it, as the sandy area grew larger. The desert island metaphor was no longer applicable, this was like a lake of yellow sand in the endless fields of black glass. As the ship passed over the rim he saw the surrounding wall of obsidian glass was perhaps sixty or seventy meters deep.
He checked the navigation screen again; their destination was just ten minutes further. There was life below now, plants, scrubs, even some trees sprouted from the sand, their shadows long and thin in the fading sunlight. He caught sight of movement, there was a flock of Otananni, the large flightless birds were milling together, circling under a grove of thorn trees as they prepared to roost for the night. Nearby he spotted some Siniki, the boars were also gathering together for protection during the coming night, sows and young ones in the middle of the group, the larger males around the edges.
Here are there in the sand were outcrops of rock and the occasional jagged spire of glass, sand heaped up around them. On the top of one was round stone-built structure, it appeared to be some kind of watchtower. As his ship passed Ibn Sharjar saw two figures watching from the top of the tower, one raised a hand and waved.
Beyond the tower, areas of cultivation appeared, fields and date groves, then a stone walled paddock with a herd of Chuchaki. The animals lifted their heads and lowed at the ship as it sped overhead.
The far edge of the encircling glass came into view now, the sandy depression was roughly oval in shape, around twenty kilometers on the long axis, perhaps twelve across. With the sinking sun much of the western side was falling into shadow from the rim of glass. Atif noticed several flickering lights shining through regularly shaped apertures, there were structures build up against the wall.
Ahead now was a sunken area, a shallow rocky bowl, surrounded by more plants and trees. He caught a shimmer of weak orange sunlight reflecting from open water, there was a small lake. There were people here, gathered around the oasis in the cool of the early evening. Families, with children, some of whom were paddling or swimming. They looked up at the ship, many waved in greeting. To one side were several pairs of draught Chuckahi being brought down for a drink, young boys guiding the large beasts as they plodded their way down to the water.
The cockpit door opened and Jelik entered, he moved to the windows and peered down. “You have brought us safely home Atif” he said and pointed “There is a room for your ship a little further north of the oasis”
Atif looked for a landing spot, as Jelik had said, a little way past the oasis was an area of flat ground. He slowed the ship, coming to a hover and turned on his landing lights to drive away the early shadows. Satisfied the ground was suitable, he decreased power on the thrusters and lowered the ship, touching down gently. He reduced the thrust output gradually, making sure the ground would hold the weight first. Satisfied he power and began his shut down procedure. Outside, figures began to gather around the ship.
Shut down completed Atif left the cockpit, Jelik and his family were waiting by the hatchway, his sons were waving to people through the port. Atif unlocked and opened the hatch for them, and they stepped down. There were cries of recognition from those on the ground, Atif leaned in the hatchway as Jelik, Kniva, Gabrul and little Sasil were welcomed by family and friends.
His eyes fell on the outer skin of the open hatch, it was marked and dented, the paint and metal gouged by the weapons and rocks of the Fraj-Senni warriors. He looked closely at the door seal, there was a small tear in it, probably from a knife or spear point. He would need to repair the damage to the outer skin and replace the seal. It was not urgent, but he would not trust it for a long space flight. Hopefully he could find a replacement at Klara’s spaceport. Otherwise, it would mean a trip to the shipyard on Obsidian Command. The thought of that did little to improve his mood.
A moment later he heard his named called and that broke his brooding. Gabrul had come back to fetch him. “Come and meet my great uncle! He’s the Chieftain!” the lad smiled up to him.
Ahead in the middle of a small crowd of people, Jelik and Kniva were talking with a tall elderly man, he bore a strong resemblance to Gabrul senior, a similar scar pattern on his cheek. A woman accompanied the man, she had lifted Sasil up on her hip and was chatting with him.
Jelik did the introductions. “Atif Ibn Sharjar, this is my uncle Tej-Gebran, my father’s brother. He is our Chieftain”
“I see you Atif Ibn Sharjar” The man replied, standing formally, he gave Ibn Sharjar a long look. He was dressed in robe and leather pants, but wore a heavy metal chain with several medallions, around his neck, the medallions were carved with symbols and archaic script.
“You are a friend to my brother, my nephew and his blood. May you be welcome amongst the Tej-Ka-Jalfa and in the Oasis of the Nine Stones. My nephew tells me you are one who has a path among the stars. May our home shade you from the sun and protect you from the ways of the Fiery One. There is peace between us”
Atif responded in kind, standing upright he said “I see you Gebran. I am honored by your welcome and your protection. There is peace between us”
Gebran nodded, formalities over he smiled and introduced the woman. “This is Tej-Niefle, my wife and our Teacher of the Path. "
The woman was as old as her husband, grey hair pulled back tightly with bright, wise eyes and a broad smile. Unlike the others she had scars on both cheeks, her forehead and neck, a mix of lines, stars and other shapes. She also wore several chains, from which hung stars and symbols.
She smiled to Atif “It is good that your path among the stars had led you here. You are welcome. Come, share our meal with us”
“The Fraj-Sanni are Qataraks!” Gabrun snorted “They lurk in the troughs and ambush the unwary. Ever has it been so, since they first turned from the path!”
Several men murmured acknowledgement. Ibn Sharjar, Jelik, Gabrun and a group of the tribal elders were sat around a small brazier on a balcony of Gabrun’s house. It was late in the evening, they were talking and drinking Halavani brandy, a potent distilled spirt made from Mignar fruit wine, in the gentle firelight of the brazier.
The home was a multi-story mudbrick and stone structure, built against the seventy-meter tall rim of dark obsidian glass that surrounded the entire oasis. The house was probably hundreds if not thousands of years old, expanded and enlarged over the generations. Plain on the outside, within its thick walls it was richly decorated with tapestries, hangings, carpets and cushions, dark heavy furniture and lit with flickering lamps in metal sconces.
Kniva, Niefle and her daughters had prepared a hearty meal, roasted meats, a thick stew, grilled vegetables, warm unleavened bread, followed by several fruits and pastries. It had been quite the home-coming dinner with other relatives, friends and neighbors invited. The atmosphere had lifted Ibn Sharjar’s mood considerably.
Afterwards, Kniva had taken the children home, the other women had retired, Gabrun had led the men out on to the balcony.
He had lit the fire against the cool of the desert night, instead of wood the metal brazier contained a soft almost clay-like substance. When lit, it burned with a blue flame, almost like some sort of Sulphur or brimstone, but there was no unpleasant smell. He had also produced a clay amphora of the brandy. Once they were settled Jelik had recounted the encounter with the hostile tribesmen.
“You are owed a dept of honor Atif” Gabrun told him Ibn Sharjar “The Tej-Ka-Jalfa never forsake our friends! Stay here as long as you wish, my house is yours! As is my brandy!” he smiled and poured Atif another generous measure of the fiery spirit.
Ibn Sharjar sipped his drink and sat quietly, listening as the tribesmen’s talked, enjoying the peaceful evening, the warmth of the brazier and the spirit.
