A conclave of the clans.

It wasn’t something that had happened in ages, as far as Ade could remember. Space and distance might be strange in the Shifting Sands, but for the most part different tribes had their own areas that they wandered around in. They might occasionally cross paths with another tribe at a large city when conducting trade, but that was a rare occurrence and three tribes meeting at the same city at the same time was unheard of. If Ade wanted to gather the necessary number of people needed to liberate Zaros, then he needed more support than that. Convening a conclave was the best option available to him, even if it wasn’t an easy task.

Most of the time, Ade’s job as Pathfinder was simply to stabilize reality. Not in the sense that it was falling apart, but in the sense that the world was dancing around just outside of sight. He likened it to the behaviour of a drunk man who keeps insisting that the world is spinning on him, and who, despite his best efforts, was unable to walk the straight line needed to leave the room without first running into a table or three. In the world of the metaphorical drunk, the sober man gets to give directions. Or something like that anyways. Pathfinder Ahten preferred to use sight-based metaphors, likening his pathfinding sense as an extra layer of depth perception, which Ade understood but didn’t fully agree with. Even then Ade knew that there were difficulties in comparing one sense to another even without the unique capabilities that all Pathfinders seemed to possess. The metaphors might not be perfect, but they provided the structure and logic needed for a novice to try something they had never done before.

Calling a conclave was definitely a skill that Ade was a novice at, and then only because there wasn’t any lower categorization available. Not only was it something he had never attempted, it was something Pathfinder Ahten had never attempted, nor had any of the other Pathfinders that had led the tribe before then. All Ade had to go on was an oral tale of what should happen, and the inability to accept failure as an option.

With full support from the rest of the tribe, Ade began to use his powers. What he was doing was something he had only practiced a few times, and never with this goal in mind. Most of the time when Ade was acting in the role of Pathfinder he had a specific destination in mind. Sometimes it was a known location he was trying to return to, other times it was a resource or other need he was trying to fulfill by heading towards it. Instead of heading anywhere, Ade now was attempting to become the destination. In the variable and ever changing Sands, the small plateau the nomads had camped on was turned into an island of stability, a metaphorical beacon that would slowly pull other pathfinders towards it by its sheer existence. It wasn’t perfect. Ade knew that showing up here would represent a significant detour for many of the tribes in the area, and he also knew that that was something his counterparts would be trying to avoid, intentionally or not. In a very real way, Ade was pitting his desire for assistance against other tribes' desire to go about their regular routine, and hoping his will was sufficient to bring them here regardless.

It didn’t work.

His attempts weren’t completely useless, Ade could feel the effort it took to reach out into the Sands, and being stationary for once gave him a better picture of just how the world over the next dune could suddenly lead to a different place than it had the previous second, but attempting to force the other tribes to arrive here felt like he was trying to lift up an entire sand dune with his bare hands. It wasn’t enough to make sure that the next step of his Path was the correct one. He needed to guarantee that every inch of desert between him and all the other tribes in the area was solid, an impermeable bridge that crossed the distance between them that would last until their arrival. It was a monumental undertaking and every attempt Ade made shattered as quickly as he began.

Hoping that it might be easier somewhere else, that a different patch of sand might be closer to the other tribes by sheer luck. Ade quietly talked with the Elders and soon the tribe was on the move. Travelling slowly, burdened as they were with injured and escaped slaves, but continually stepping forwards into the unknown, still hopeful that Ade would bring them to a solution. Looking at their hopeful faces almost made Ade confess right then and there his many failures, but instead he held his tongue, climbed up onto a camel, closed his eyes, and began to think.

Normally Ade would lead from the front, picking out the path needed to get to a specific destination. If all he wanted to do was to reach a single clan, then doing so would help his goal, with every carefully chosen step leading him closer to another tribe. But doing so would only help him contact a single tribe, and while they might be sympathetic to his cause, they could just as easily decide to prioritize the safety and wellbeing of their own tribe over helping out the injured nomads following Ade, or agreeing to the even more risky strategem of taking the fight back to Zaros. Sitting in the middle of the caravan, Ade pondered the bitter truth of the situation for a while, rolling it over in his mind. His whole life he had been training to be a Pathfinder, and although he was capable of the impressive feat of leading a large group across the sands to meet up with another group that was also in the Sands, it wasn’t enough.Everyone else thought that they simply needed a Pathfinder to fix things, but Ade knew that what they actually needed was a miracle, conveniently wrapped up in the form of a heroic Pathfinder. A conclave would be that miracle, changing the equation for any interaction with other nomad tribes. The other tribes would still have their own concerns and reservations, but they would have to weigh them against a need great enough to draw them all together.

That last thought tugged on Ade’s memories, and he took a minute to recall what he could of past conclaves. There had always been a reason for them to be called, from intelligent monsters that were slowly picking off nomad tribes, to a new disease that required all the collective resources and knowledge of the nomads to cure. Ade had reasoned that the tribes of old simply didn’t bother to call a conclave unless there was a large problem that needed to be dealt with, but even then he should have heard a cautionary tale about not abusing the power available to him. Surely, if such a thing was possible, other would have been at least one egotistical tribe that abused the privilege available to it to settle a marriage dispute or the like? But there wasn’t, and Ade was beginning to think that there was more involved with the need aspect of a conclave.

As for creating that need, Ade merely closed his eyes and let himself feel all the emotions he had kept locked away until now, the pain and terror of his flight, and the aching pit in his heart that his grandfather’s absence had caused. It was a void, a pit with no bottom that refused to change no matter how many times his mind turned towards it. His grandfather, Pathfinder Ahten, was gone. Most likely dead, but the uncertainty gnawed on Ade. Death wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the Sands, but this specific incident was unusual. If it had been old age or a powerful monster Ade would have still grieved, but he could have at least accepted the loss as inevitable, but for it to happen as a result of a conflict with other people, a conflict that Ade had in many ways instigated, hurt. Any moment that Ade wasn’t focused on the tasks ahead of him he found his mind endlessly replaying the events that had happened, going over every single second wondering if he could have pushed things towards a better outcome, but always he pushed those thoughts away, anchoring himself with the next thing that needed to be done for the tribe.

If he had been by himself Ade would have gladly lost himself to that despair and self-recrimination. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t. Once again he focused his thoughts towards the future, toward creating that meeting place for tribes to come together, but this time he let himself continue to feel those raw emotions. He needed the power and pressure they provided, even as he risked losing his focus. It was a balancing act that Ade had never walked before and hoped to never walk again. More than once he found himself either pushing those emotions away or forgetting to keep his Pathfinding abilities active, but every time that happened he would simply roll his shoulders and give it another try as the tribe continued to slowly move across the desert.

By the twentieth time Ade immersed himself in his emotions, he had learned how to do so enough to make a modicum of progress. In the awareness of his greater surroundings that being a Pathfinder provided, the young man could feel things he had never felt before. Infinitely far away and impossibly solid compared to everything else, Ade was sure that the dozens of strange things were other pathfinders, making their way across the Sands, or perhaps taking well-deserved breaks in cities. Curious, Ade tried to force the issue, bringing his will to bear and commanding one of the towering objects to come closer to him. It worked, barely, but the pressure left Ade gasping for air. He had a modicum of power, a rare talent for Pathfinding, but even that wasn’t enough to simply force another group who knows where to appear before him. However, as Ade recovered his energy, he realized that that wasn’t what he needed to do.

Dimly, so faint they could barely be seen, Ade felt the impact that his fellow tribesmen were having on the Sands. Even if they could never become Pathfinders, everyone had at least that little spark of talent necessary to eventually save themselves if they were lost in the Sands and didn't die to monsters or dehydration first. It was such a small ability that most never even took it into consideration, but Ade could see now that it was more complicated than that.

Every person here had just undergone the same terrible ordeal that Ade had endured. Some had lost friends, others had lost family, and all had been exposed to the horrific place that Zar had transformed the once welcoming Oasisinto. Their intent was not fueled with a simple desire to get from point A to point B, but all the complex emotions that were surging through them. Even more apparent was the support of the other apprentice Pathfinders. While Tor, Amy, and Kane might not have had the Talent or the family relations to be nominated as the next Pathfinder for the whole tribe, it didn’t diminish their actual capability or the diligent work that they had put into training themselves as best they could. Ade might only be able to leverage his own personal strength, but his gut was telling him that his tribe as a whole was more than capable of overpowering any of the other Pathfinders he had noticed. He didn’t know what the consequences of doing so would be, or how it could be done, but the overall power balance was in his favor. But a time continued to pass by, Ade began to realize that the conflict he had been imagining wasn’t necessary after all.

As the nomads moved onwards towards their mysterious goal, Ade watched the world far beyond his present location. The other Pathfinders seemed to dance as they moved towards their goal, sliding through and around each other in ways that wouldn't work in a physical goal, but that Ade was slowly able to decipher. Instead of forcefully pulling the other tribes towards them, the unconscious desire of the nomads present was simply to arrange a meeting. It didn’t have to be here, or any specific location at all. He didn't need to force a tribe to stay in one spot or head in a specific direction. All that needed to be done was to slowly arrange the world so that all the paths would happen to pass through the same spot. It was bending and weaving an invisible tapestry, shortening all paths involved as a gesture of goodwill, while also varying the aid to make sure the timing would be right. Even as Ade watched the gestalt will of the tribe at work, his mind whirled as he tried to remember as much as possible, a dozen methods of improving his Pathfinding whirling through his mind, some blatantly impossible for a single person to perform, and others that would be the end result of a lifetime of practice. So lost was he in his inspection that it was only when he realized the pathfinders were about to intercept each other that he was broken out of his study.

“Well done everyone!” He called out.”We’re almost there, so start getting things ready for the meeting.” That warning, vague as it was, was still enough to clue the elders into what was happening, and soon they began the process of organizing people to unpack food and straighten appearances to give the best first impression.

A spray of wind whipped up a temporary screen of sand, and once it had settled again Ade knew they had arrived at the meeting point. The sand ahead gave way to a vast plaza of paved stone, polished smooth with time, but defiantly refusing to be buried by the surrounding dunes. In the center of the plaza a giant column stood tall, metal and marble mixed together with magic and skill into a monument that had been hidden for centuries if not millennia. It was an impressive sight, and a saddening one as it bore witness to all that time and destruction took.

As the first to arrive, Ade found himself helping set up the largest tent they had in the small section of shade provided by the monument. He had lost track of the other pathfinders once he was no longer immersing himself in a trance, but it had felt like seven or eight other tribes would arrive, if all went well. Not long after, the first of the strangers arrived, and polite conversation began to pick up, even though it was a bit stilted by the act of waiting for other people to show up for things to begin.

In the end, only seven tribes had shown up, as well as a small group of adventurers led by a Nomad who had gone his own way. Despite their initial irritation, the adventurers had been mollified by the knowledge that they were still closer to their destination than they would have been otherwise and had decided to hear Ade out in return, even if they hadn’t fully understood the significance of a Conclave.

“It has been many years since a conclave has been called, and never by one so young or with such a small following.’ As the largest tribe, the Glass Gems were given the honor of presiding over the conclave, at their own insistence. Ade felt a bit insulted at their casual dismissal of his tribe’s position as instigators, but the Gems’ ability to work desert sand into beautiful works of glass gave them a level of economic power that allowed them to be aggressive. Even with Ade’s assurance that the unexpected detour would not cost the Glass Gems any time, and despite the general sense of support for his claim that the other Pathfinders provided, the Gem Elders were still belligerently insisting they had been wronged. Some whispered words from Elder Shan made Ade realize that the Gems were likely less offended than they appeared, but were simply hoping to improve their position if any bargaining were to occur. The Vipers and the Cartiers were more amicable, and the rest of the nameless tribe was simply grateful for the interaction and the small gifts of hospitality they had received. Refilling their barrels of water from the Endless Jug had cost Ade nothing, and had bought them enough goodwill that Ade was already counting on their support for his plan.

“It has been many years since the nomads have needed a conclave to call. We have established a reputation across the Sands as both competent and independent, and that has allowed us to go about our business freely. Each tribe has risen or fallen on its own merits as they challenge the Sands. But what our tribe encountered is not the indifferent danger of the desert, but the directed cruelty and malice of mankind. If our tribe is the smallest to have managed to call a conclave, then it is only proof that our need is great indeed.” Ade answered calmly, trying to move the conversation forwards while deflecting the subtle contempt that the Glass Gem elders were showing him. While all of the tribes had their Elders and Pathfinders present for the meeting, Ade and the rest of his tribe were put into a strange situation, Even though Elders Gomer, Rao, and the rest were present, the task of representing their tribe fell to Ade, as a conclave was something that a Pathfinder had to make happen. Having the elders present provided a surprising amount of emotional support for Ade, as did knowing that he only had a single goal for this meeting. He was young, and his tribe was small, and that meant he was looked down on, but it did add a large amount of weight to his claim of a great danger.

The Glass Gems didn’t seem to care. “And? The overblown panic of an inexperienced boy isn’t worth losing any money over. You claim to have saved us some time, boy, but if we sit around listening to you blather all day then we will lose that time and more. The other tribe elders seemed uncomfortable at the straight-up dismissal of Ade, and would likely be willing to both stay and help, even if it was just to leverage some artifacts out of the tribe or convince some of the more skilled members present to switch over. Even before the meeting had begun, Ade had noticed two pretty girls from the unnamed tribe cornering and flirting with Bob. If they paid off the adventurers for their aid it would give the nomads a large enough force to attack Zaros, and maybe succeed, but Ade didn’t want this to come down to maybes.

“It all comes down to money with you, doesn’t it.” He asked, keeping his voice neutral, leaving it as a simple question instead of a hidden insult. Just as the Gem Elders began to nod or answer in the affirmative, Ade cut them off.

“Eight silver pieces. That is the price that a young nomad woman was selling for in Zaros. Too ugly and too spirited for a better price. Men go for over two gold pieces, as we are supposedly better adapted to the harsh desert conditions, but the auctioneers only sell broken slaves, men who have been whipped to an inch of their life, shackled so they can barely move, and are thus helpless before their new masters until they are assured of a broken spirit and loyalty. Our tribe was lucky to get out alive, aided by intelligent beasts and the sacrificial help of the slaves themselves, but how many other tribes weren’t so lucky? And more, what will happen if Zaros is left to grow. Slavery might be illegal, but without the support of the people in power, those laws are simply words on the wind. How many old governors would want a nubile bedwarmer forced to do whatever they want, at no cost to them? How many bigoted towns have you visited where curious children might just slip away to never be seen again. How long until the untouchable reputation we have developed shattered, leaving us easy picking for anyone who wants an extra handful of gold?”

A long moment of silence stretched as Ade stared down the Head Elder. From the corner of his eye, he watched as everyone else reacted to his words. The Gem Elders were still adversarial, but other leaders had been swayed, and Ade knew that the rumors and tales they picked up from his fellow tribesmen would only help cement their agreement.

Trusting Elder Gomer's interpretation of the Glass Gem’s anger, Ade decided to add one final incentive. “Besides, once we burn Zaros to the ground and free all the slaves that still leaves the question of what to do with the Oasis, something everyone present will get a say in.

“Fine.” The elder grumbled. “But if we’re doing this, if we're fighting against a mercenary with an army and a fortified city we’re going to have to go about this the right way.

“I have a few ideas with regards to that.” Ade admitted, and the campaign to take back the Oasis was begun.