While driving to another city to attend the funeral of a distant family member, we happened upon a billboard advertising a new night club called "The Watering Hole". The billboard was brightly colored and eye-catching. As it was situated just before a rather sharp curve. We joked that if one were sufficiently distracted and missed the curve, it would be the last watering hole you would ever see.

The idea stuck, though, and a series of short novella's was born.

The oasis in this series is central to the stories of all who partake of its refreshment. People come here for a variety of reasons, but it is here that their story will find its new beginning or its end.

‘The Cabrinni Gambit’ is a tale of treasure and treachery. Cale and his band of freebooters must decipher the ravings of a canny old rogue, survive desert storms, and escape marauding tribesmen who demand blood tribute for safe passage through their sandy domain. Their journey is complicated by a mysterious Sun Dancer who may or may not be on the side of the angels.

The oasis has always been. The one green space in an unforgiving landscape, its gardens have flourished or waned according to the shifting sands. For all of living memory, its waters have quenched the thirst of traveler and tenant alike.

The first visitors inset the great flat perimeter stones, now worn smooth by the feet of successive generations who have drawn up cool, clear refreshment – for the desert dwellers, life itself.

For a time, the water was all but lost to the encroaching desert, and the oasis became a hidden well, reached only by a winding stairway carved from the living rock. Its waters brought to the surface again by later tenants, the oasis re-emerged, a haven of sturdy palms and lush greenery to welcome the weary traveler.

The last watering hole for ten days’ hard journey in any direction, it has been the beginning of a new life for some. For others, it is the last stop on the road. The oasis has offered respite, sanctuary, a temporary home – it may, perhaps, be the only thing these travelers have in common.

“Wake up, old man!”

The heavy boot thudding into Max’s gut sent him, retching, across the floor of the decrepit cruiser.

“I’m jus’ lyin’ here mindin’ me own,” he whined pitifully, raising a protective arm to ward off a backhand swing. Though it barely grazed the side of his head, the force of the blow was enough to tumble him against the peeling metal bulkhead.

“Leave him alone, Venn.” The order was quietly delivered, but the tone was cold, business-like and unmistakable.

Venn wisely refrained from further action, but glared daggers at the disheveled prospector.

Brushing stringy, grey-streaked hair out of his eyes, Max stared back. Insolently waggling grimy fingers at his antagonist, he lurched to his feet and made to leave the control room. As he brushed past the still smoldering Venn, he murmured something under his breath.

Goaded beyond endurance, Venn lashed out with one huge fist, catching the old man on the side of the jaw. The impact drove the still-shaky and much slighter man head first into the rusting doorframe with a sickening thud.

“He’s no good to you dead, you fool. If you’ve addled his mind, he won’t be able to lead us to an outhouse, let alone where he’s stashed our take.”

“He called me ‘rat bait’,” was Venn’s aggrieved reply.

“That’s exactly what you’ll be if the old man wakes up with no memory.” With that, the speaker turned away from the blue glare of his view-screen to face the burly mercenary. Of medium height, dressed from peaked cap to the tip of his booted feet in the dull black and grey of a freebooter captain, Cale didn’t need to dominate the men under him physically. He employed Venn and his like for that purpose, and then, only when force of character would not suffice.

“Now, Venn, pick him up and put him back in his bunk. Gently. Carefully. When he has slept off your love-tap, clean him up, and bring him to see me. If you hurt him in any way, I will have your balls, fried, for my breakfast. Are we clear?”

“Aw, Cap, I barely touched him,” protested the blond behemoth, scrubbing a hand the size of a small shovel across his scarred visage. “Besides, he’s been leading us in circles for almost two weeks now. He needs to know we mean business.”

“He will know soon enough, Venn, and once we have retrieved our share, you may teach him the error of his ways.”

“Aye, Cap’n!” Beaming with delighted anticipation, the giant caught up the still-unconscious prospector under one arm and headed for the hold.

No sooner had he left, than a woman stepped out from behind the curtain that separated the captain’s quarters from the bridge. Loosing the ties of her cloak, she tossed back its fur-lined hood, revealing a mass of ebony curls held back from a face of classic proportions by three braided silver bands. The bands were encrusted with precious gems and carved about with symbols that identified her as a priestess of the Gennaran Order. Heavy, perfect breasts were plainly visible through the diaphanous gauze of her snowy robes. A sleeveless tabard, cinched at her middle by the broad belt clasping a hand-span waist, hung midway to her knees. Each strand of the silken fringe swaying from the tabard’s hem to brush the tops of her feet was threaded with dozens of tiny, carved silver beads.

Cale surveyed her slowly from the top of her head to the toes of the slender feet encased in daintily bejeweled sandals.

“Did you have any trouble?” he asked, politely.

“Trouble? I suppose that depends on your definition of the word.” she replied. “Did I have any trouble finding my way here? Not really, your progress through the outlands was easy enough to follow. I simply searched out the seediest public house with the most villainous reputation in every port of call, and listened for news of your ‘band of brothers’.”

Cale nodded. Any comment at this point seemed unnecessary.

“Did I have any trouble getting on board?” she continued. “No – who here would dare question a member of the Sisterhood. By now, however, they will all know I’m aboard and they’ll be speculating about what sort of deal you’ve made with the Gennarans.”

Cale cocked an eyebrow at her. “That’s what I’m counting on,” he said. “You’re our free passage through the badlands. None of the Djindi will look at you twice for fear of being struck dead, and most of this crew will too busy trying to figure out how they can further their interests without fear of reprisal by the Sisterhood harpies. All in all, a perfect passport.”

The woman pulled the long traveling cloak tight about her and shivered as she gazed at the storm clutter surrounding them on the flickering view screen. The ghostly blue light accentuated high cheekbones and magnified the shadows under her eyes. “How soon will we be out of this?” she asked.

A humorless smile lifted the corners of Cale’s mouth.

“I don’t like storms,” she said, defensively. She could travel alone across half a world, accept hardship and deprivation as unremarkable, and face down anyone who tried to get in her way with perfect equanimity, but storms were entirely another thing.

“In about one hundred and fifty days.” His voice was almost as dry as the sands flung against their hull by the incessantly howling winds. “Then, the blizzards will begin.”

Sensing the woman’s distress, he added almost kindly, “There are no winds from just after moon-rise until midday. We will be more sheltered once we reach the oasis.”

Stepping closer, he could feel the heat of her through her heavy cloak. She twisted sinuously about to face him, blue eyes staring into his dark ones.

Opening her cloak, she brushed her body against him delicately. Stepping back to loosen the wide belt, she let her tabard slip to the floor between them. The fire in her flesh washed towards him. As she swayed forward, the fur-lined cloak slipped closed. Sliding his hands underneath the soft folds, he molded her buttocks, pulling her against him. “Did you have any trouble with the Sisterhood?” he asked, mouth brushing hers.

She laughed deep in her throat. “Later,” she whispered.

Throwing her cloak onto the console behind them and leaning back against it, she pulled him down on top of her.

Copyright © 2008. All rights reserved.