[ WP ] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia .

A dead horse and a half empty bottle of water. That was all I had left in the world. 
 
 I knew the trip would be cutting it close, but it was an important mater for my lord the king. At least it had seemed important at the time. Looking back I ca n't even remember what it was. Something about the stars. 
 
 I had set off across the wide white salt flats West of my country towards a neighbouring land and a neighbouring king. Deep enough into the desert to make the shortest trip, but hopefully not deep enough to run into any of the savage natives. I took as few supplies as possible for what would be three days ride. I knew I would be hungry and dehydrated by my journey's end but speed was the priority. I was making good time until my horse collapsed from the heat. 
 
 I could never make it to any civilised place before I died. My only hope of life was rescue which was unlikely under the isolated, extreme circumstances. I would be dead before my countrymen even knew I was missing, and even sooner if i tried to trek across the boiling wasteland. 
 
 I was sure I would die. My tongue was as dry and rough as the sand that battered my skin. I was beyond noticing the hunger and the thirst but not the heat. Heat was my entire existence as I lay there against my dead horse waiting to die. 
 
 I briefly considered trying to drink the blood of my horse but decided it would only prolong my suffering. And I had to get out of that heat. 
 
 I closed my eyes, took a deep breath of resignation, and gave myself over to the desert. 
 
 -- - 
 
 I awoke laying on a floor. I stayed lying down against the hard stone, allowing its coolness to soak into me. I was never a religious man, but that cool stone felt better than the blessings of all the gods of men ever could. 
 
 I was in a cell. It was dark and all made of black stone, accept the grey metal bars of the door. There was a part of the wall roughly carved onto the shape of a sink and a hole in the floor next to it. The sink had water in it. I drank, but I noticed I was n't dehydrated to begin with. I was hungry, but not weak from starvation. 
 
 There was a man outside the door in the dim candlelit hallway. He was small, maybe 130 centimetres, with dark skin a thick square jaw and long bright white hair. He stared at me with cold unblinking eyes, grey as the metal of the door. He wore a single tattered sand coloured cloth draped over one shoulder and tied to his mid section with a plain rope. It barely covered him and I could see his powerful, almost unnaturally strong build. He looked like he could crush my bones to dust if he so desired. On his waist was tied a chain of slender bronze coloured keys. In his hand he casually held a thin dagger. This man was dangerous regardless of his small stature. More than dangerous, he was a Desert Walker, a native of the hellish wasteland I had thought to die in. 
 
 I had heard stories of the savage people that lived in holes in the desert. Anarchists who delighted in nothing more than attacking unsuspecting passers-by through their ancestral land. They had no homes, no rule of law, they lived in squalor and were as likely to kill their own kin for the meat on their bones as take the lives of unsuspecting travelers. 
 
 I stared at the man. His appearance matched the stories I had heard perfectly. All but his height. He had the face and shape of a man full grown but the stature of a child. 
 
 I felt my heart racing in my chest. I looked for a weapon but the cell was barren and my possessions had been taken from me. I was trapped alone in some savage's hole with nothing to defend myself with. 
 
 I collected myself and marched as confidently as I could towards the door. Without dropping eye contact, I put both hands on the bars and shook them with all my strength. They were as solid as the floor I walked on. 
 
 I stooped down to his eye level and shook the bars again with no difference. I let my hands rest hanging through the bars while I looked at the man. This Walker. He really was terrifying. He made no move to stop me or intimidate me. He only stood and starred and held the dagger. 
 
 `` Can you speak my language?'' I asked. He starred. `` Because this really is n't going to be much of a conversation otherwise'' I was terrified. My heart was going to explode and it was all I could do to not visible gasp. But I could not let him see that. 
 
 I started again, `` You know what I-'' I darted my hand out and grabbed the keys from his waist. He was so surprised that when his dagger came whirling toward my arm, I was already pulling it back. He cut my hand but only superficially. Then he tried to stab me in the chest but I jumped back too fast for him. 
 
 The briefest flash of irritation came over his face and was gone as fast as it had come, replaced again by that cold blank stare. 
 
 He would have to go fetch another key. One can not just let a prisoner hold the key to his cell, even under heavy guard. My jailer would have to come in to get the keys, but first he would need another key to open the door. He would have to go get the key himself for my plan to work. A slim chance, but I doubt these people would have thought I would cause enough trouble to warrant two guards. 
 
 The walker looked down slightly, considering, then back up to me. He turned and walked quickly down the hallway. 
 
 I rushed to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. I closed and locked the cell behind me and slunk into the cell across from mine and hid behind the wall. I did n't have to wait long before he returned. 
 
 As soon as I heard him unlock the door I ran out from my cover to see two men where I had hoped to see one. Too late now they were about to hear me anyway. I slammed into the men and set the first into the second and both of them into my first cell. I backed up and slammed the door with the two Walkers trapped inside. I locked the door as the first man jumped to his feet and came at me with his dagger. 
 
 I pulled and snapped the key off just as he made it to the door. White hot pain blossomed in my hand as the dagger slid clean through it, protruding out of my palm. It was worse than any pain I had ever felt before. Worse than dying. 
 
 I pulled my hand free and held it in the other to try to stop the geyser of blood erupting from both sides of the wound. 
 
 I ran. I had no sense of direction, no idea where I was going. All I knew was fear and desperation. I reached the end of the rough stone hallway, turned the corner, ran past another corridor, then another. I ran towards a bright light at the tunnels end. 
 
 As I sprinted through the hole in the wall, expecting the freedom and only very relative safety of an endless desert, two things happened. I was tackled to the ground by another guard standing next to the tunnel on the other side, and my mind went into complete shock. 
 
 I stood in the middle of a city. More than a city, the most amazing work of architecture I had ever seen. carved out of the rock were buildings and streets and catwalks. White light came from boxes, that somehow contained no flame, all along the walls and buildings. There were shops fountains and noise and there were people everywhere. Desert Walkers. They were all dressed in fine clothes and everyone was staring at me. Not surprised. I was no threat or mystery to them. Just an oddity they had not seen the likes of many times before. 
 
 `` Fool'', The guard whispered in my ear. I could hear the sincere regret in his voice `` They would have let you leave before''. 
 
 -- - 
 
 I'm new at this so any of your thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Thanks OP for the great starting point and thanks in advance for any feedback.
