Note from the author: I originally posted this on elsewhere a while ago, but it's one of my favorite shorts that I've written and too fun not to share more widely. Hope you enjoy!
Cinder and the Season of Monsoons
Part 1: Honey and Sand
The desert spilled down the face of the dune in sandy rills as Cinder gained the crest of the rise. Booted feet on the wind-sculpted edge, she squinted into the distance, shielding her eyes with a hand and staring hard at the line of the horizon. She glared as if she could force Mansuriyahh into existence by the strength of her irritation alone.
Annoyingly, the city continued to not be there. The elf pulled the black keffiyeh she wore tight around her face and sighed through the cloth.
The worst day on the trail is still better than the best day being someone's quest bitch,
she reminded herself, trying to ignore the chaffing. Honestly, the desert wouldn't be so bad if there was just a
liiiiittle
less sand in it.
She picked her wedgie and prepared to head for the next in a seemingly endless series of dunes when a sparkle of distant green caught her eye. The color was stark and bright against the red-brown of the sea of endless sand, and it drew her keen elven eyes like a lodestone.
Cinder rummaged through her pack and brought out a map. She'd met an itinerant merchant on the trail two days ago, and had traded him for it. The desert sun had long since dried the evidence of their deal, but the pungent aroma of his spend still lingered on her skin and crusted her hair. She'd long passed the point of smelling herself, which was fortunate since she barely had enough water to drink, let alone to waste on washing up.
The elf's expression soured to a frown as she regarded the square of creased parchment. The map made no mention of an oasis in the area, and she'd passed a marker half-buried in the sand a few miles back so she knew she was headed in the right direction. Maybe the map was wrong, or out of date? Maybe the patch of green was nothing more than a mirage, a trick played on her eyes by heat and distance? Whatever. Either way, Cinder was willing to take a chance if it meant a break from the tedium of endless sand.
By the time Cinder reached the oasis, the light of the setting sun gilded the dunes, turning the waves of sand rose gold and pink. Cinder paused at the edge of the oasis, hesitating at the point where the sand bled into grass. She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side thoughtfully, considering her options.
The sound of birdsong and babbling water came from somewhere within the verdant lushness of the foliage, and the evening air was perfumed by jasmine and the sharp sweetness of citrus. Her pointed ears picked up the snorting rustle of a pig trundling through the undergrowth, and the distant drone of buzzing indicated the presence of a beehive somewhere in the trees. She spotted a few small monkeys perched among the palms. They watched her with curious eyes.
"Not a mirage," she decided, although she felt the odds were pretty good that the place was some kind of trap meant to lure unwary travelers. "Lucky I'm so wary," she muttered as she stepped into the trees.
The chance to refill her waterskins—and more importantly to take a bath—was too good to pass up. Cinder liked the feeling of come on her skin as much as the next elf, but she really didn't want to show up in Mansuriyahh smelling like an ogre's spunk-sock. Maeryll would definitely make some kind of remark, and after this long in the desert, Cinder was in the mood for neither sassin' nor hasslin'.
She picked her way through the palms with the surefooted grace of an elf in the woods. Cinder caught glimpses of old, worked stone in the undergrowth. She stepped over the shattered base of an ancient pillar covered by vines and blooming pearoot and trod lightly across a sequence of cracked flagstones that might've once been part of a road. A strange pattern of interlocking hands was carved into many of the surfaces, visible even under the years of dirt and wear.
The buzzing noise of insects grew louder, and Cinder came upon a beehive hanging from the branches of a tree. An excess of golden honey dripped with viscous obscenity down the bark, and Cinder licked her lips, suddenly hungry. A cloud of bees milled about it, but they paid the elf no mind as she passed deeper into the thicket. She figured she could always come back later if she wanted something sweet to eat.
At the center of the oasis, Cinder found a clearing filled with a wide pool of calm water, fed by a burbling spring. The trees which surrounded the pond were heavy with fruit, branches sagging with swollen-ripe dates. Jewel-feathered birds roosted in flocks amid the canopy. Night had fallen as she walked, and the palms fringed a clear, starry sky, like a diamond sparkle on black velvet.
The whole place had a feeling of abundance and fertility, a sanctuary replete with everything a traveler could want after the arid brutality of the desert. Because she was not a fool, this made Cinder extremely suspicious, but she had sand up her ass and jizz in her hair so she shrugged, sat down on the crumbling remnants of a stone wall, and began to strip off her boots.
The ancient wall which served as her seat was covered in the pattern of interlocking hands she'd noticed earlier. These, however, had an additional detail of carved bees. The little insects were fashioned from gemstones. They rested in the center of each carved palm, twinkling beguilingly with frosty starlight. There was a fortune here in corundum, diamond, emerald, and pearl, but Cinder knew better than to reach for her knife to pry any of them out.
"C'mon," she muttered, "is this amateur hour or something? Nobody's fallin' for that."
The elf had stripped off all of her clothing except for the dark keffiyeh wrapped around her graceful neck when a voice spoke from the trees. At the sound, she bent to retrieve her long-bladed knife from her garments, covering the movement with a languid stretch.
"Long years has it been since an elf walked from the desert to find succor in my haven. I'd forgotten just how comely of feature and form those of the fair race can be, how taut and ample." The man spoke in a weird cadence as if he was trying to get used to the shape of the words in his mouth. "I am also pleased that the sweetness of your beauty, mistress elf, is matched by a surfeit of wisdom."
Cinder glanced down at her knife, the weapon shadowed and untouched by the silver moonlight. Then she looked over at the ruins of the wall and the unspoiled treasure of its jeweled bee carvings.
"That's some sweet talkin'," she said, casually slipping her weapon behind her back. "Why don't you come on out so I can thank you properly?"
The voice chuckled, a sound so deep and rich it almost felt like a caress. Its owner emerged from the treeline, stepping from under the shadow of a tall palm. His simple linen shirt strained against his powerful chest, and his curly black hair fell in a glossy tumble down to his broad shoulders. The man's eyebrows were thick and dark and full as his beard. His eyes flashed, emerald green and brighter than the forbidden jewels in the carved wall. The man crossed his arms, and the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt made an impressive display of his forearms.
The guy looked like he was ready to get to
work
. At the sight of him, Cinder's priorities shifted. The bath could wait. There wasn't any point in getting clean if she was just going to get dirty again. She loosened her grip and let her knife fall tip-first into the earth. Judging by the emerald sparkle in the man's eyes as he drank in the vision of her immoderate figure, she wasn't going to need a blade.
"Nice place," Cinder said, glancing around the oasis. "Really sorry for barging in unannounced. Hope you don't mind though?" She made her eyes wide and filled them with fabricated innocence. "I'm Cinder, by the way. Pleased to meet you." She slid a hand up her belly and over the swell of a bare breast, then kittenishly placed two fingers against her lower lip.
