Oasis (story preview 1) (Patreon)

Got the start of another story here to share with you, this one a bit more narrative focused at the start to set up a key relationship within the story. This one involves Thorani from the game Indivisible. 

Time seemed to slow down as Batu’s exhaustion hit its peak. Eyes surveying the veil of heat rolling like waves on the horizon, it felt ironic that one of the few major choices he had made in his life was this. He wouldn’t dare ask the others in the party, but it was apparent that they were lost. Lost in an unending desert that showed no signs of forgiveness. He asked himself for what felt like the hundredth time, “Why did I join this caravan?”

The question felt profound, so unyielding it felt easy to blame it for the pounding in his head. But no, that was the unbearable heat. A more appropriate question may have been why he had stuck to it so long, over a year having passed with many journeys under his belt.

Men of all sorts from across East Asia came and went within their group, only a handful of veterans sticking around as the core. Their histories were unknown to Batu, but they were an unsavory group, beaten down and made angry by a life spent in hostile environments transporting the goods of wealthier heads. It seemed unfair--probably was--but they pressed on as it become the only life they knew. Batu could relate, not having much in the way of choice in his own life. He came from being an orphan on the streets scrounging for spare scraps. The caravan was a life of luxury by comparison, no matter how poorly the others treated him. But with the recent hardships of the heat, Batu found himself missing the chilling touch of stone against his skin at night. Inevitably he found himself asking yet again, “Why had he joined this caravan?”

Then his mind turned to poor Kovit who laid behind him. So he slapped himself, dug his heels into the dune and kept pulling his portion of the group’s burden: a half-dead man in a broken down cart missing its back wheels. The task of hauling it and its ailed cargo had been left to him after the others insisted on not wasting the last of their remaining camel’s strength on a lost cause.

The caravan’s leather, toe-curled boots sluggishly sank into the reddish yellow sand and their large silk coats and nehru-style jackets created double visions as they fluttered minutely in the wind. The wind itself had been a comfort for much of the journey with the sand dunes singing wherever it blew. That lovely noise however had now turned into an ominous ringing in the ears as the water had run out and supplies had dwindled. It now sounded like an eerie requiem for the dead.

The sound of yelling soon tore through however and Batu shook himself out of his daze to listen in.

“I’ve traveled the Gobi many times. We are not lost!” The head of the caravan assured.

“Pizda! You will get us all killed!” the largest and angriest of the group replied. He looked ready to strangle the other man before being held back by another.

“You’ve assured us all week we’ve been on route. It is time you stop lying to us and yourself!”

Batu turned away, unable to listen to the same bickering that had been playing on repeat for the past several days. Not that he’d find much distraction out in the barren desert. He hoped for anything to take his mind off the dry air scratching his throat. Then he saw it, flanked by two huts just as old as Kovit had spoken of, standing out clear as day from the thick hazy veil of heat.

“O… O-O…”

Batu mustered as much strength as he could, his voice terribly weak. He needed to shout loud enough to overwhelm the angry party.

“OASIS!!”

Everyone’s yelling tapered off and turned his way, seeing him point off into the distance. A few squinted to be sure of what they were seeing. The leader approached with a laugh and shoved Batu to the ground.

“Don’t play games fool. There is nothing out here but preyful visio--?”

All of them stood speechless. They too saw it. The glimmering pool looked to be a mile away. It was no misty mirage or half-visible apparition, but an honest to god real one, that they were sure. The men shuffled hurriedly towards its direction, leaving Batu in their dust to slowly gather his cart with Kovit and follow. Sweat trickled into his eyes so he unfortunately had to wipe it away, having grown to prefer over the past few days to let any drops simply fall to his mouth due to the absence of water. Sucking his damp sleeve he pressed on, knowing that falling behind would be fatal, but relief now bubbled inside him.

Despite his elation, all that awaited Batu upon arrival to the Oasis was a punch to the face by the large man.

“Stupid boy! Alna shuu!” He rabidly barked, eyes staring daggers through him.

Batu understood his reaction upon looking at the Oasis. Despite how it appeared from afar, like a blue beacon of hope, it was drier than dirt up close. The buildings as well were devoid of life and crumbling.

“Another mirage!” one of the men shouted, “What a waste! I will not die for you or that corpse you carry!”

He looked poised to strike Batu before the leader separated him. They were told to setup camp for the night.

Batu tried thanking the leader as he rose to his feet but was quickly shoved down by him.

“You and the geezer take the hut away from us. I don’t want to see your face until morning. You lead us astray again and that’ll be the end of you. Hear me!”

The young man gave a light nod and watched him angrily walk away. He hauled his cargo to their hut and set up for the night. On his broken cart rested an elderly man, his face shriveled with age, illness and thirst. He was barely lucid as Batu set him down.

“I’m so sorry Kovit.” Batu weakly spoke, his own strength barely hanging on. “I guess the heat has drained me of all sense. But don’t you worry. I’ll continue praying for the oasis you spoke of.”

Kovit was the real reason Batu had stuck with this sorry life. For a boy not so much a boy, yet unable to be truly called a man, the wise Kovit had become the father he never had and a kind place for him in a harsh, unforgiving world. It was clear however that time and age were claiming him. When his legs had given way during the crossing, he’d told Batu to leave him but the boy had refused, hauling him onward as his state worsened on the back of the cart. Kovit had told Batu of a small, traveling water source sent by the heavenly rulers to travelers deemed worthy. He said the number of dwellings surrounding the spring would change in accordance to the needs of the group, but was most often two huts. Kovit claimed to have seen the oasis many times in his travels, but never had the need to approach it, though it always brought him great reassurance.

As the moon rose Batu fiddled awake, unable to accept what appeared to be the end of his protector’s days, he shook his head, musing whether he was merely seeing things. Then he heard Kovit let out a cough and groan. As Batu approached to assist, Kovit shakily raised a hand to stop him, wanting only his attention.

“I… am sorry,” He weakly spoke before another coughing spell hit him. Batu wished to speak but was waved off by Kovit once more.

“I’m sorry… my little nok. I cannot… I couldn’t guide you…”

Kovit’s hand fell and he closed his eyes, looking to be holding on by a thread. Batu, feeling that this may be it, held back his tears and assured the old man that he would be fine and that with all he had taught him he would handle anything. Deep down though he felt a hurtful rage. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he too would follow his protector in death, either by the desert or the hands of the other men. Unable to bear the sight any longer he walked out of the hut and into the cold night sobbing.

The rest of the caravan was asleep, and Batu, too parched to rest, found himself ambling away towards the ruins that lined the dead bowl of the once oasis. He felt ashamed that he wasn’t strong enough to stay by Kovit’s side, but he felt so helpless.

He kicked the sand at the lip of the pit. As he did something sparkling under the moonlight suddenly caught his gaze. His face stretching in awe, Batu gasped. He skidded down into the basin and arrived on its bed. A brilliant, crystal clear gush of water oozed from the sand, first forming a puddle and then a gleaming fountain. It was a minuscule amount but enough to fill a flask. Speechless but thankful, he rushed back to his hut to grab his container.

Batu gently lowered the flask into the cool water, watching it trickle as it flowed in. To his surprise though he couldn’t feel the weight of the fluids filling the reasonably sized flask. This was made clear to be one of the oasis’ majesties though, as Batu watched the entirety of the spring slowly flow into the flask, its sound that of a rushing stream. As he witnessed the last of the moisture disappear into he felt bumps across his skin. Dream or miracle, he couldn't afford to ponder as he rushed into the hut. His mind was set only on Kovit, no one more in need of the water than him.

Batu quickly made his way to Kovit and lifted him with one of his arms. The old man’s grunts thankfully showed he was still alive. With an anxious hand Batu pressed his flask against Kovit’s withered lips and gently tilted it, letting the mystical water pour into his body.

All Batu could do at this point was pray that it’d be enough to keep the old man from death’s door. He watched Kovit’s every movement like a hawk, his face slowly twitching to life as he downed the water. It was a good sign, followed by more curious ones. His hair that had been bleached by the sun was regaining it’s darker color, a shiny coat of black spilling out from his scalp. His face as well, which had pruned in the heat, was softening as if it were soil being moistened by the water itself.

After half a minute, the time that should have been needed for the flash to run dry, it continued to pour. This confirmed for Batu that what he had seen was not a lie, that he had found the holy spring Kovit spoke of. He just had to keep him drinking. As long as he could save Koivit that was all that mattered to him.

Batu tilted the flash even further, letting the water flow even quicker. He could hear Kovit struggle breathing through his nose at first, but he settled down into a calmer rhythm soon enough and continued to drink. His eyes remained closed but fluttered frantically, every gulp rejuvenating him inside and out. His limbs began to move once more and his aged, cracked skin was smoothing over. Batu couldn’t believe his eyes, but it seemed to be that the old man’s complexion was not only revitalizing, but becoming younger.

Hearing a brief hack, Batu asked if he was okay and was ready to pull the flash away just in case. However, Kovit grabbed hold of the flask with his own hands, surprising Batu. The old man then quickly rose to a seated position, sending Batu reeling back in shock. The young man stared on in awe. His friend who had been on the verge of death moments ago was alive and well, guzzling down an endless stream of water.

Kovit held to the flask with an almost desperate grip, his thick hands, toughened from years of hard labor, holding it within a vice. Those sturdy hands that had comforted Batu within many warm embraces were beginning to change though, with each finger becoming slimmer and bulging knuckles sinking--their strength fading away into a far more slender shape that better conveyed their gentle nature. Every pore across their surface wetted with rejuvenating water, some of the fluids even spilling out from under his fingernails as each nail was dyed a pale turquoise. A baby-like softness soon covered their surface, with a healthy radiance returning to the dark brown skin that Batu could only stare on in confusion at. To him they appeared more to be the hands of a woman than the fatherly Kovit.

The smooth skin did not stop at his hands. Batu watched intently through every gulp that Kovit took, his complexion livening into a beautiful dark shade free of blemishes. There was a glossiness to it, light refracting off its surface as if it were the water that was filling him. Batu began to wonder if this was how Kovit looked in his youth, untouched by the harshness of the sand yet glowing with its brilliance that shone under the sun. He couldn’t picture anyone possessing such unrivaled skin though, and knew in his heart that it was the Oasis’ doing.

The spring water’s direct hand in things became abundantly apparent once Kovit’s hair began to grow. Inch after inch poured from his shabby, short hair, each follicle watered like a plant by the water filling their roots. The gray in his hair turned dark with a damp, shiny coat, every thread of hair becoming thick and straight. His hair puffed with extra volume, his bangs growing long and wavy, the right side sweeping back and away from his face while the left side fell over his eye before curving towards the side in sharpened fashion. Much of his mane’s new length collected towards the bottom of his neck, clumping together and widening into a closed bundle that drooped down between his shoulder blades.

Through all this Kovit continued to drink, unhindered by the sheer quantity of water entering his body. It was unreal how a body could have taken in as much as he had, but there was magic afoot and anything seemed possible at this point. Batu didn’t dare try to interrupt, having the sense that whatever was happening to Kovit was necessary, a gift the old man deserved for giving word to the blessings of the Oasis. So the boy sat silent and watched; watched the bundle of hair dangling from Kovit’s head sway and expand. The sound of lightly rushing water told Batu all he needed, that water was spilling into the bulb.

Just as the young man wondered if it would ever stop growing, the hefty sack of hair halted in its growth, leaving him to ponder what was next or if it were over. Kovit’s sudden, muffled groans communicated it wasn’t, his body trembling out of sorts and temporarily hindering his gulps. He powered through though and continued to drink, a satisfied series of moan spilling into the flask. Batu saw the now youthful old man’s body breathing heavily as his flesh pulsated unnaturally. His shoulders and limbs became more lean, elegant contours and sensual slopes eroding their broadness. His backside began to arch more distinctively and his round belly flattened, unusually deflating against the rush of water pouring into it.

There was no mistaking it for Batu, the man he admired was gaining some distinctly feminine features. He had shrunk at least a foot as far as he could tell, the clothes he wore sagging on his new petite frame. The neckline of his undershirt even began to slide down one of his shoulders. Kovit was as slim as the fairer sex and he seemed to be enjoying it, a tent rising in his pants.