The Far Oasis
Coming in 2022
The third and final book in the Divided World series, coming November 3, 2022.
How far will Paza, Malenie and Nes have to go to heal the world?
Pre-order now!
Chapter One (Advance version)
Paza sat at the head of a box canyon, the desert night closing around her like a shroud, her sling in her hand, and thought about murder.
Below her, a fire flared to life and men’s voices shambled through the air, breaking up into noise before reaching Paza in her high perch. Counting, she brushed her fingers over the five rocks lined up on her left, smaller than her fist, reasonably round and perfect for killing Harashan if the first one, already in her sling, missed. But she wouldn’t miss. Even Tal had thought Harashan should be blotted from the world, and it wasn’t Tal’s fault she lost her chance. Paza made her own chances.
What none of her friends understood was that she had killed before and it didn’t really bother her. Colvin had broken something inside her when he kidnapped her and she didn’t think it could ever be fixed.
She didn’t expect Malenie to understand; Malenie was soft, even though she didn’t think of herself that way. She had been sheltered most of her life and there was no doubt her papa loved her, even if he was absent-minded. She carried that love around like a magic buffer, even when she was in danger. Nes came closer to understanding; she’d lived on the razor edge of life longer, as everyone she loved was stripped away from her. She’d been trained to fight against the monsters who looked like people, but even she got all shaky after she killed that bandit.
Paza hadn’t shaken.
That’s why she was here. And why she was the one to do what had to be done.
She waited for the last of the light to fade from the west and for the men to stop moving around. Harashan drifted among the camels, not tending to them but checking them over. Someone spitted something over the fire. It flared with grease and floated the mouth-watering smell of cooking meat into the air and up her nose. When it was dark, it would be easier to get away without being seen on the deer trail behind her, skirting the rim of the box canyons here and then down a hill between mesquite trees to where she’d left her own camel, far enough she wouldn’t bellow for the others and give Paza away.
An owl hooted. Insects chirped.
The men argued, and a tremor flitted down Paza’s arms and into her fingers. She clenched her hands in fists and fought the cough that wanted to seize her throat. Abruptly, they squatted and rolled a set of dice. At least that’s what it looked like. After a few rounds, two men slouched away from the fire, out into the dark to take the watch. Neither of them headed towards Paza.
She opened her hands and pressed them into her thighs, the sling and its rock a bumpy comfort. Her hands stopped shaking. The tickle in her throat went away.
Harashan left the camels, one of only two men in turbans, his beaky nose distinctive as he silhouetted himself in front of the fire. Paza stood, the tree behind her masking her shape, and whirled the sling, the leather making a faint whirring noise as it passed in front of her face in a figure eight. The stone cupped at the end strained the leather taut, yearning to fly to its target. Paza would set it free.
She’d set them all free and no one would need to worry about Harashan and his slaving ways again.
At the pause in her breath between exhale and inhale she shifted her arm, eyes pinned on Harashan’s face and let go.
The sling snapped. The rock flew. Her aim was true, Paza knew it. Her breath stuttered.
The rock dropped like a wren knocked out of the sky by a hawk.
For a moment the night hung suspended. Paza couldn’t move. Then one of the man shouted, looking not up, but down into his hand.
“Death’s ashes,” Paza choked. Magic. Some kind of spelled object that gave them protection.
Harashan looked right at Paza, though she knew, knew, that he only followed the path of the rock and didn’t see her. Her shoulders drew in and her breath shook in her chest. The night loomed enormous around her and she was small and alone. And young.
She broke and ran.