Sabit pointed her spear at the heart of the stranger that had approached her from behind. Older than Sabit, the woman wore simple traveler’s garb, with a bulging satchel hanging from one shoulder.
“Who are you?” Sabit barked.
The woman smiled. “I am no one of consequence. Merely a wayfarer passing along the road to my next destination, much like you.”
“You do not know me,” Sabit replied. She rested the butt of her spear upon the ground, crimson sap still oozing from the red wood that was the only earthly remains of the Prince of Ghabar. “How can you say that we are alike?”
“I meant no offense, proud warrior,” the older woman said. “I merely thought that as no one lives in these badlands, you must also be on your way elsewhere. Isn’t that so?”
Sabit furrowed her brow. Where was she going? Where had she come from? The memories of her life before facing the ruinous plant-thing were elusive. The more she cast her attention upon a recalled image or a half-remembered sound, the more quickly it evaporated, like mist beneath the sun’s morning glare. The memory of the place called “home” did not even merit a mist—it was a featureless waste in her mind.
“I know no place that I belong,” Sabit muttered. The silver horn rested at her hip, as still in its repose as the dead warriors who had once answered its call.
“You are greatly blessed,” the woman replied with genuine warmth. “For if there is no single place where you belong, then, indeed, you belong everywhere. The world is your home.”
Sabit pondered the older woman’s words as she surveyed the the landscape before her. The morning sun had painted the badlands in vivid hues of pink and orange. A single flowing stream glittered like silver as it danced between columns of weathered stone. In the far distance, a great city rose from a hilltop, its delicate spires caressing the morning sky like an attentive lover. Surely a world that boasted such beautiful vistas must have a place for all its sons and daughters.
“I suppose you are right,” Sabit said. “Every place I lay my foot is as much my home as any other. Let us see what this home has to offer.”
—END—
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Wayfarings of Sabit: Road of Woe is copyright (c) 2017 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters are posted on Monday and Thursday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/