The final, and most formidable by far, obstacle that must be surpassed to reach Shdustu is the Shdus Desert. Shdus, according to the language structure of the Kharal, from whom most place names east of the Sanid Empire derive, means 'land without life.' This label is, superficially, extremely accurate, while at the same time drastically deficient when examined in detail. Shdus is a true barren waste, a vast expanse of sand and stone of extraordinary hostility to life where rain falls with exceptional rarity and the little moisture that does occur is restricted primarily to late winter snowfalls that melt away almost immediately following the coming of spring. This allows for a burst of greenery in the fourth and fifth months, but thereafter all things swiftly turn brown as the land bakes beneath blisteringly hot days of great length all through summer and fall. All desert crossings follow roughly the same path, from Duvust to Gudishgul Fortress, though the winds in the desert swiftly erase tracks so no route is precisely the same. The journey across shifting bands of stone pavement, baked clay, salt flats, and red and black sand dunes in sinuous formation demands some twenty-five to thirty days of effort. This land contains no true settlements, and the only permanent residents are isolated hermits living in groups no larger than six. Even that is rare. Most proper oases or sound wells in this landscape cannot support more than a handful of people and are in any case claimed for the use of travelers, a provision the Kharal enforce through the expedient of executing any who dare to contest this need.

Much of the hostility of this realm is due to the endlessly shifting dunes, carried by the winds, which move and obscure the path northeast. Thirst claims many caravans led astray each year. Great sandstorms full of dust and grit do worse, scattering parties in every direction and ruining stores of water and food. All attempts at crossing demand careful planning, ironclad discipline, and the blessing of the Divines. The risk is considerable, but so too the potential for reward. For trade to flow from the Sanid Empire to Shdustu, and even further to lands unnamed in the distant east, the desert must be breached. Valuables that do so are inestimable prizes.

Having gird ourselves for the journey, the Dragon Expedition departed Duvust at last during the sixth month and as a result endured many of the hottest days of the year. Though the heat is brutal and can kill the parched in hours, the steadiness of such ravages presents a blessing in disguise. Storms are uncommon during the hottest months, and the sky remains clear. This allows travel through the night, following the stars, which mitigates the threat of heat and serves as a much superior guide compared to landmarks and shadows. Additionally, the earlier in the year a caravan crosses the greater quantity of forage provided by the brief spring burst of growth remains, reducing the ranging distance needed to supply livestock with sustenance. Our passage was only slightly earlier than normal. Caravans from Shdustu most commonly cross in the seventh month and then return in the ninth following the fair in Duvust. Most merchants who cross the desert specialize in this practice, for there are endless tricks to learn to master survival in this place.

We retained horses for battle and riding, some fifty animals, but replaced all other pack beasts and many of the riding steeds, including Master Lam's horse, with camels and donkeys, nearly fifty of each. The donkeys, an excellent breed of the Foothill Kingdom, strode tirelessly in line and almost never complained, well justifying the boasts of their breeders. While the claim of best in the world cannot be secured firmly by any one breed, these surely have the right to challenge for it. Camels, by contrast, are foul-tempered, obstinate beasts in all regions, but those acquired in Duvust seem to have been birthed specifically to share their every misery with the rest of the world. They moaned, spat, and kicked constantly, to the point of driving their handlers – of which I thankfully was not one – to distraction. Above all, they possessed a seemingly innate ability to never, no matter how strongly they were pressed, march in a straight line. Everyone swore that Master Lam had been tricked by the merchant, including the master caravaneer himself more than once. Despite this, they proved as hardy as they were miserable, and walked across the vastness of Shdus chomping on dead grass one side of their mouths at a time with contented expressions and a pretension that the withering heat simply did not exist. Just as men who may be tough as rawhide are prone to being equally crude as that material, it seems this aged proverb holds true of camels as well. A most distressing thing to consider, that camels might be described in such a fashion.

The plants of Shdus come in two variations: quick-growing grasses and flowers that store their strength in thick bulbs or underground stems buried beneath the sand; and scraggly shrubs with hair-thin leaves. The former grow green only in the brief flowering of spring, following the melt, and then spend the rest of the year a sun-baked brown, dormant and dry. The later endure even the worst temperatures, but are as slow growing as any plant ever examined. There are two principle forms of shrubbery: scraggly things known as phog that sprawl across the ground as if someone discarded a pile of green and brown sticks onto the sands, and the taller and more robust saksaul, which resembles a dead tree of very thin branches covered in scales. Saksaul wood can be remarkably dense, as one of the Stone Irons demonstrated to me by submerging a log in a cook pot at one of the rare wells. I later sawed this log open and found the growth rings were so narrow that I could not discern any space between them save using Lady Indili's crystal lens. If lucky enough to emerge in a sheltered space where moisture collects, such as among mounded boulders, these shrubs may eventually reach the height of a small house, but most are no taller than an average human.

With so little vegetation to serve as food, the animals of the desert are equally limited in number, and most are very small. Birds and rodents that would fit easily in the hand if they could be grasped, though this is challenging for they are very skittish, live amid the shrubs and crevices, preying upon seeds and insects. Larger animals are limited to rare antelope, wild ass, and the occasional wild camel, with some few jackals who hunt them and consume their dead alongside large vultures. These are not abundant and are deeply fearful of humans, usually glimpsed only after diverging from the line of march and then at a great distance. They are likely more numerous in the deep desert far from the crossing route where they need not compete with livestock for forage, but neither hermit nor rumor speaks of any great herds.

Unlike the territories of the Empire and its environs, the Shdus desert is also home to mystic creatures. Nothing so majestic as a dragon, and all such creatures are quite rare, but they do exist. Born from long ago manipulations of life by wizards, they are constrained in the desert by the need to eat, the same as any other life. Legends speak of three such creatures in the desert, though I express confidence only in the existence of two of these as I saw one myself and observed the carcass of another. The simplest of these creatures to explain is the giant viper, a green and yellow serpent thick around as a man's leg and as long as several camels standing end to end. This great serpent can rear upwards high enough to look a horse in the eyes and its blood-colored fangs hold a venom of sufficient potency as to kill a human in three heartbeats. Like many mystic beasts, these snakes possess a profound hatred of humans and will readily attack them, in this case striking from ambush among the stones. Thankfully, these vipers are much hated by camels, and the stubborn mounts will bray and stamp when they are found, alerting the wary traveler to their approach, at which point they can be easily killed using arrows. Such a slain viper was the one I saw, as a caravan that had passed before us had strung the mauled remained across the branches of a saksaul bush in the hope that the sunlight would burn away the poison from its flesh.

Second of these creatures is the Great Camel Spider, which bears a strong resemblance to the arachnids of immense size produced by wizards with disturbing frequency. These creatures resemble a strange blending of spider and scorpion, but are neither, despite being often referred to as such by travelers. In the parlance of scholars they are called Solifuges and they resemble spiders save with front-facing, snapping jaws in place of fangs. They have no webbing, but are swift runners. Properly sized versions of these animals are roughly of fingertip length, and can be found with some ease by straining out any mass of loose desert sand, but the mystically-crafted abominations are the size of a wolf and swift as any hunting cat. They do not move as mammals do, fluidly, but instead snap about in fast-twitch fashion as if blurring from one stance to the next. Night is their preferred time of activity, and they hunt by moonlight. One such creature attempted to ambush the Dragon Expedition, lunging out from the rocks to assault the last man in the line of march. As that sentry was a warrior of the Winged Guard the giant camel spider met a swift end as its sprinting charge carried it straight into a lethal spear thrust, but the man's horse suffered a serious gash that bled for many days. I witnessed the final dying thrashings of this terrifying beast. Despite its terrible appearance, to the human who maintains their composure these are no more dangerous than a wolf or leopard. Truthfully, such steadiness is a grave challenge, for nothing so large should ever move about in that fashion, and the eye flees from the sight. If nothing else, it represented a first, frightening, demonstration of the life-twisting power of wizardry.

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The third legend of the desert is both the rarest and by far the most dangerous, if the legends be true, which I somewhat doubt. It is a great worm-like beast, blending the traits of a serpent and burrowing beetle larva. The hermits claim this creature can grow to the length of an entire camel train and possesses a ring of jaws bearing teeth like interlocking swords of pale bone. It is said to be capable of digging through loose earth faster than a human can run. It comes up beneath its prey, rears up higher than the tallest camel, clamps down jaws with unyielding strength, and then drags the unfortunate back down beneath the sands to be consumed, eating even the very bones. Called the death worm, it is said to lurk beneath the great sand dunes and take down adult camels with a single strike. It is not uncommon for travelers who wander the dunes to simply vanish. While surely most such deaths as simply a consequence of rapid burial beneath shifting sands, the death worm is forced to bear the blame quite often. I could find no one who had reliably witnessed the existence of this terrible beast, but one of the caravaneers later purchased a long spine that merchant claimed to have been shed by a death worm. The Lady Indili examined this strange barb, long as my leg but no wider than my littlest finger, and declared that it possessed the twisted strands of essence linked to manipulation by wizardry, but nothing more could be learned than that.

Crossing the Shdus Desert places many demands upon the traveler. The days of marching are lengthy, and the stops irregular, measured in watering places, not distance, for only a fool would pause in a dry place. Every drop of precious liquid must be rationed with care, and the result is a feeling of perpetual thirst as the sun beats down, never enough to feel comfortable. There is little cloud cover, to the point that even the brightness imposes a burden of its own. Where the sun is relentless, the darkness of starlit nights is deceptive, hiding a series of endless holes, pits, and crevices across the surface that disrupt footing and threaten horse limbs. In many places where the landmarks are scarce and there is nothing but sand to see the world seems to blur and thoughts run away from the mind. All become dependent on the pathfinder to lead as they shuffle blindly beside their assigned mount, which is in turn simply following the animal before it in line.

At any time the wind can rise, hot and bitter, to fill the air with whorls of dust and stinging sand. Such heat wind brings no cooling relief. The ground is hard, jagged, and treacherous to ankle, knee, and toe, and by the conclusion of the crossing even the toughest leather boots are shredded and require replacement. Stinging insects, spiders, and scorpions crawl over the body at night, for there is no cover to shield the traveler when sleeping in the open to evade the heat. Most such bites and stings are merely painful, but some carrying deadly venom. The same is true of the snakes that bask upon the stones, waiting for an errant footfall to unleash their fangs. Though not so deadly as the mystic giant form, these vipers and cobras can still kill quite easily. The Dragon Expedition, inexperienced in the desert lore compared to some caravans, suffered six snakebites and four scorpion stings that might have claimed lives. Thankfully prompt action by apothecaries and healers spared the afflicted that fate, though they remained sick and delirious for many days afterward and by the end of the crossing the strength of the healers was exhausted. Though Master and Mistress Adnol were among the most talented members of the White Onyx Order's younger generation they spent much of the crossing tied to their saddles, sleeping through the days and roused only to administer in the case of emergency.

Even with such capable care, the expedition did not escape the desert without loss. Let his chronicle show that Tenuld Gradam, a camel driver born in Duvust and an honorable and faithful man, was the first to give his life during the journey. The cause was a simple accident. Traversal of the stony barrens requires navigating through numerous canyons and beneath endless escarpments, features carved by rivers and floods from some long ago wetter era. Ground down by endless winds and cracked by freeze and thaw, these formations are unstable and can move and break with the shift of the sands above. A rock the size of man's head fell from the wall high above and struck him atop the left shoulder. Bones shattered and were forced down through the heart, an instantly fatal wound beyond the capability of any healer. Though such rockfalls are irregular, debris of this kind claims the lives of several travelers every year.

Prepare though one may and pray as one can, but no amount of vigilance will prevent the desert from taking its toll. This is often repeated by the caravaneers. Master Lam accounted that out of ninety-nine persons only one was lost in the passage a stroke of divine favor. Others were less pleased with this outcome, but no one complained or spoke against the result.

Merciless though it may be, there is also a strange, eerie beauty to the desert. Here the bones of the earth are exposed as can rarely be seen elsewhere. Bands of rock in shifting colors, layered one atop the other in the fashion of grand court confection, reach out from every hill and cliffside. Crystals glisten in the sand and light reflects across the shining carapaces of beetles like black steel. Towering spires of stone rise in the distance, their height and sheer sides unconcealed by vegetation. In this way are the bounteous and wondrous forms shaped by Tipapashu laid bare before limited human senses. Even the dunes themselves, the up and down of ground soft as mud yet perfectly dry, triggers childlike fascination and an urge to roll and tumble about. At the sight of their shifting motions under the steady touch of the wind, the whole expanse of the desert can be seen to move in accordance with the goddess' orchestral vision.

Time too, lies strangely upon the desert, offering a window into ages past, long lost now, before memory and even legend. Lady Indili, who at no point discarded her ruby-fringed charcoal robes despite what must have been truly oppressive heat, found the barren land wondrous. Fearless of losing her path, she ranged far from the caravan track to search base of cliffs, the lee of hillsides, and the scattered rubble of dry washes in an endless search for bones and fossils. Those strange stony remnants of prior ages of the world were common here, often to be knocked loose from crumbling sandstone with no more effort than a single tap of a hammer.

Alone among the expedition, her pack gained in weight as the route advanced across the wastes. Claws, teeth, and bits of vertebrae vanished into a heavy bag after being carefully diagrammed in charcoal sketches. If her claims are to be believed, and though they are in many ways fantastical there is much evidence suggesting such speculation leads toward the truth, the Shdus Desert once lay beneath a shallow sea. It seems an impossible thing to believe, yes, but how else could a crab cast in perfect rendition be found inside of a rock many months travel from the ocean?

That crab, which we excavated together, was accounted one of the expedition's treasures, perfectly preserved as it was, and now sits in a vault in the imperial treasury.

Though none live in the desert save rare hermits clinging to those few springs and wells they unearth, the traveler will find the route anything but empty. With the mountain passes opened by the coming of summer, merchants from Shdustu began to send their goods westward in the hopes of gaining their piece of imperial wealth. Long camel trains passing in the opposite direction were a common encounter. Most consisted of several dozen animals with a mere handful of handlers and guards to protect them. A seemingly dangerous business, but it is said that a properly skilled driver can guide as many as fifty of the stubborn and heavily laden camels across the desert if all else fails, and all travelers upon the route abide by an unspoken rule of mutual assistance. Much advice was shared by those headed westward, and on singular occasion when we overtook a group that had departed before us, we endeavored to aid their weakened camels and allowed them to shelter under our protection until reaching the next source of water two days later.

In such places all must stand together against the lure of Ukut, for death is all too close in the burning days and frigid nights and acquires an alien charm. Stories were cast forth around the camp to hold this at bay. One of these is worthy of mention here.