Land Without Hope

Chapter 6 - Oasis

The next two weeks passed in a blur of motion and discovery. Each day brought new lessons for Daglan, both in the art of survival and in the intricate dance of circus life. The caravan wound its way through the wasteland, a string of color threading through the desolation like a lifeline.

On this particular morning, Daglan found his usual training interrupted by Mortis. The circus performer's slightly green skin and cat-like eyes were striking as always.

"Mind if I join?" Mortis asked, already picking up one of the wooden practice swords lying nearby. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "You know, it's funny - your Lechi arts use energy kinda like we Serkans do, just... different."

Daglan paused his routine, curiosity piqued. "How so?"

"Well," Mortis said, turning the practice sword over in his hands, "the energy in your body from eating and sleeping, is the same the plants use to grow, and people give objects. Most Serkans connect their energy to plants and animals. They can see through them, control them even. Me? I never got the hang of that." He chuckled, a sound Daglan had come to associate with the man's near-constant good humor. "But a friend taught me a different way. Watch."

Mortis closed his eyes for a moment, and Daglan could feel a shift in the energy around them. Then Mortis began describing, in perfect detail, what was happening behind his back - how many people were walking past, what they were carrying, even their clothing.

"You're seeing through the sword?" Daglan guessed, fascinated.

"And the ground, and that cart over there," Mortis confirmed. "Can't make them move or anything - they're not alive like plants or animals. But I can connect my energy to them, see through them." He spun the sword casually. " Noticed you trying to do a similar thing earlier, and youre going about it wrong. Would you like some pointers?"

Daglan nodded eagerly. He'd been curious about the similarities he'd noticed between some of his Lechi movements and the various performers' techniques. "What should we start with?"

"Feel it flowing through you," Motis said, "extend it outward. Let it touch everything around you. Become one with it."

As the morning wore on, Daglan and Mortis were immersed in their similar fighting styles. Daglan lost track of time as he practiced extending his energy into the world around him. Eventually, the growling of his stomach and the enticing aromas wafting through the air signaled that it was time for breakfast. Wiping sweat from his brow, Daglan followed the scent of spices and roasting meat.

Vega stood over several makeshift grills, his movements a blur as he transformed the wasteland's meager offerings into something magical. Daglan watched, mesmerized, as the ringmaster's nimble fingers darted between pots and pans, wielding seasonings like a master painter with his palette.

"Breakfast is served!" Vega announced, his voice carrying the same showmanship it did on stage. The circus folk descended upon the food with practiced chaos. Daglan found himself swept along, a plate pressed into his hands as he was guided to a weathered table where Kento and Ingrid already sat.

"Sho how wesh trainin'?" Kento asked through a mouthful of what looked like roasted desert lizard, his white hair slightly singed at the ends from this morning's practice with flaming rocks.

Daglan couldn't help but smile at his friend's enthusiasm. "It was good. Mortis has taught me a lot already." His muscles ached pleasantly from the morning's exertion, a familiar comfort that reminded him of training with Koshu.

"You fit in really well here," Ingrid said softly, her brown eyes fixed on her plate as she pushed a piece of meat around with her fork. "Do you... do you think you'll stay?" There was a hesitancy in her voice that made Daglan's chest tighten.