The Fields of Fire

  His arms rose before dropping heavily to his sides as he felt the shock and defeat of being left there to die. The pages rolling on the ground like tumbleweed gave way to an immense field of red flowers, swaying gently in the hot, desert wind. Would this change of scenery, be his st? He walked for hours, lost in thought, when out of nowhere, someone attacked him from behind.

  “Let me go!" Roa screamed, attempting to loosen the chokehold, his hands grabbing and scratching against the assaint’s arms.

  "You thought you were going to get lucky again, huh? You won't steal from me this time. Where's my stuff?" The stranger tightened his grip, choking the traveler who struggled to breathe, as he tapped desperately on the man's arm with his hand.

  "You have me confused for someone else, you fool," he managed to gasp out a few words.

  The grip loosened, the two froze as the assaint stared at him, inspecting his face from behind. Roa could smell the scent of dates on his breath.

  "Then why the hell are you here in the middle of nowhere, if you’re not a bandit?"

  He expined what happened with the caravan as the attacker grew less hostile, eventually releasing him from the hold.

  "I swore you were one of the thieves that took my belongings. They even took my staff. I left my vilge after the Desert Fathers charged me with heresy,” he expined.

  “Heresy? What did you do to be charged with that?” asked the boy, curious.

  “Astronomy.”

  Roa’s eyes widened and his eyebrows raised in disbelief, caught between surprise and the urge to ugh at such an unusual cim.

  “I was teaching the children of a vilge about the stars when the mob grew wild, incited by their angry, stupid, ignorant words. I decided to get away, promptly. The rest is history. Well, that was this morning, to be precise. I had quite the day," the man sighed.

  "You can say that again. I also had quite a few days, for that matter."

  "My name is Rosso Broon Rego, but you can call me Rosso, if you'd like" said he, as they shook hands.

  His palms were rugged and covered in callouses, and his nails were covered in dirt. His eyes carried a warmth that was inviting yet intense, as if they held both compassion and an unyielding fire. He seemed knowledgeable and quite educated, a stark contrast to many of the locals he had met in the past weeks. He was the only other soul in that desote expanse, so the boy decided to tag along for a while.

  “Where are we?”

  "These are called the Fields of Fire, named after the red petals of the Fire Flowers here. We are in the Southern Quadrant of Western Waste, the rgest of the deserts in Lal-Ah Land."

  "What-a nd?"

  The red-cloaked companion gave him a funny look.

  "Are you dehydrated or something? Lal-Ah Land, the name of the world."

  Roa hesitated at first but then expined to him that he was from another pne of Existence altogether. However, while he expected incredulity from the stranger, his eyes, instead, lit up.

  "My father—he spoke of other worlds when he was still alive. Nobody believed him, but I sure did. He was a man of truth—and my hero. He spent his whole life fighting for it. You must tell me more."

  The sun was low, casting an orange hue across the orange desert as Roa shared his long story. Rosso listened, jotting down every word in his little, red notebook, pausing to gnce at the boy as he nodded. The wind had picked up, causing the sand to swirl around them, forcing them to shield their eyes with their hands. A giant stone arm stood before them, sticking out of the sands unwavering, holding a torch, now long dead. It looked like some forgotten monument, left behind in a pce that seemed to swallow everything, including history. Roa’s gaze kept drifting toward it as they walked past, its eerie presence sparking his curiosity, as if the very desert was trying to hide its secrets from him.

  "The ancients had built great wonders,” Rosso expined, noticing his curiosity. “Things that our minds cannot replicate in these harsh, ignorant times. However, in their hubris, they put so much of their focus and energy into their fantasies—their inventions, that they lost their connection to reality. Their actions led to the destruction of the world, turning what was once green and beautiful, into the desert."

  He pointed at the vastness in front of them, as the silhouette of a giant moved in slow-motion on the horizon, blocking the st setting sun. Rosso’s eyebrows furrowed as he continued.

  "The holy ones say that it was Humanity's ck of faith that led the world to the Catastrophe, that the solutions are found in the scriptures that fall from the sky. If we do what they say, supposedly, we will be rewarded by the One Above, one day. They say that the desert is our punishment for our fathers' sins, but the few historians left know that the ancients had destroyed Nature, causing the desert to come."

  "That’s terrible. Who are the holy ones?" asked the Sunflower.

  "They call themselves the Holy Desert Fathers. They belong to the only religion allowed anywhere in the desert. Most of the native beliefs, traditions, and cultures were destroyed years and centuries ago, along with their wisdom. Nothing but the ‘One True Religion’ remains, as they call it. I think it's all a steaming pile of crap, if you ask me, so I refer to it by a more proper name.”

  “What?”

  “The Cult of Ignorance. The priests and their followers revere a deity they call the God of Letters, who they believe drops the scriptures from the skies—like the one that got you kicked off your ride, for example. They base their lives on whatever nonsense is written on them, forcing everyone else to live that way too."

  “That sounds—” he was going to say ‘backwards,’ but was interrupted.

  “Insane. That sounds insane,” nodded the heretic.

  “And intolerant,” the boy added, as he looked around. “Where are we heading to?”

  “We are heading towards the nearest vilge, following an old path that was created long ago by migrating Tharn, a type of walking bird that travels in rge herds. They feed on Fire Flowers, which fill their stomachs with potent gases, turning their spicy farts into powerful hallucinogens.”

  “Their what now?”

  Rosso looked at him, sighing as he repeated himself.

  “Their zesty ftulence, their tangy toots. I just told you. The merchants bottle them up and sell them for lots of money. I wish I had a farm of Tharn, then I wouldn’t be doing odd jobs to survive all the time and could instead focus on my research.”

  “You don’t say,” Roa nodded while trying to hold back a ugh, as he imagined the angry bigots from the caravan sucking spicy farts out of long, colorful ampules.

  As they walked beneath the bzing suns, the hours seemed to slip away unnoticed. The rge, round dates were surprisingly filling, their energy giving the travelers the strength to keep moving forward, despite the oppressive heat. The water from the animal skins they carried was soothing on their parched throats, providing brief moments of comfort as the days wore on.

  At night, as the desert’s cold winds repced the heat, they set up camp, their conversations flowing into the te hours of the quiet darkness. Roa felt a sense of connection with Rosso, as if their lives—so vastly different—had finally converged in the most unlikely of pces. They both had very curious minds, and their hearts a strong sense of integrity. Most of all, they were outcasts, never completely fitting in with their respective societies. They spoke of many things, the silence and emptiness of the desert somehow helping them reach deep within, as they discussed the nature of Existence, philosophy, religion, and life. For the first time in a long while, Roa felt less alone.

  The fire crackled, as Rosso adjusted the skewers, the scent of roasting meat mixing with the desert air. The fmes danced, lighting up the sands around them, as the two sat rexing in silence. Roa could feel the warmth on his face contrasting with the coolness of the night. He watched the fmes sway, mesmerized by their movement, his thoughts wandering as they waited for their meal to cook. The roasted animal sizzled, sending a faint aroma of savory meat into the air, Roa’s stomach growling in anticipation.

  "Not bad for desert food, huh?" Rosso said, his voice warm but tinged with humor. The boy chuckled, nodding in agreement.

  "What is it?" he asked, but then continued talking before his travel companion could answer, “you know what? I don’t want to know. You’re probably going to tell me it’s some delicacy—then add some disgusting details that are going to make me lose my appetite.” Roa smile faded as he found himself lost in thought when he asked: “by the way, how do you know my nguage?”

  “My father taught it to me and my mother. He said that he learned it on his travels. We used it to speak freely at home and with each other outside of it, unafraid that our conversations would upset any of our neighbors,” he returned his focus to the fire, his expression shifting to one of concentration as he stoked the fmes. "You said that you arrived in Lal-Ah Land through a portal. An Exit?”

  “Yeah, big doors with an eye on top. You fall in, then you puke on the other side,” the Earthling expined, causing the other traveler to scribble in his notebook.

  “Puke? How strange. I have never heard of such things, nor seen one before. I am heading towards an outpost where a group of free-thinking scientists live. They used to work with my father. They are your best bet at finding the portal. It’s only a few months of travel from here. "

  "A few months?" Roa groaned.

  "Maybe less—look!" Rosso pointed at a rge bird nearby as they ducked behind a dune.

  "A Rainbow Tharn! It must be lost. Let's catch it and ride it!" he whispered excitedly.

  "Ride it? Are you insane? It’s huge."

  "It's the fastest animal in the desert. We'll greatly reduce the length of our journey."

  Roa looked at him with a skeptical stare.

  “Alright—as long as you don’t make me inhale its farts. How do we do it?”

  The two devised a pn as Roa gazed at the beautiful animal, his eyes scanning its exotic features. The bird towered just on the other side of the dune. It was twice as tall as an Earth’s ostrich, its long legs casting shadows in the firelight as it shifted with calm on the sand. Its rainbow-colored feathers gleamed faintly in the glow, long, sharp and spiked like gemstones, catching the pale light from the two moons overhead. As the bird ruffled its plumes, a soft shimmer of metallic blues and purples danced along its neck. They lured it with the sweet scent of the dates, and as it neared, the travelers pounced, rushing to surround it, tying a rope around its neck. The bird struggled, thrashing for several minutes, until it calmed down, at st ying down on the sand.

  "Stupid bird," Rosso compined.

  The Sunflower uncorked his animal skin and allowed it to drink.

  "We should thank this creature for its help," he said, as his companion raised an eyebrow in judgement.

  The weary travelers passed out soon after, unaware of the trouble that was waiting for them.