It is difficult to explain, to one not versed in the cartographer's arts, the challenge presented by an environment such as the Sun-Scorched Badlands. The level of variance in elevation, though overall of no great amount as these were hills and not mountains, flooded everything. Any step forward was liable to also be a step up or down. At the same time the paths carved into the landscape by water and wind were truly labyrinthine in structure, endlessly bending around each other, terminating pointlessly, and splicing together and separating from each other irregularly. If the reader imagines a maze composed entirely of stairwells then they may begin to grasp the complexity of the undertaking.
The requirements for access were also extraordinary. Though I consider myself a surefooted figure able to climb modest obstacles easily enough in traveling garb, and the clandestine inspector Yomak possessed the ability to scramble up even seemingly totally smooth slopes with great skill, it was not enough to transport ourselves alone to the base of the fortress. We needed to open a corridor sufficiently gentle to allow armed and armored warriors passage, for though horses might be left behind all other arts of war would be required in this assault. Further, the final leg of the passage must be conquerable in darkness, for an open approach would lose the surprise essential to any chance at success.
Some accommodation was made. Erun ordered his solders to gather all possible wood to be found in the badlands that it might be lashed together into ladders, even prevailing upon our Kharal minders for a surplus of rope. Though scraggly, the dense wood of the saksaul shrub allowed for strong rungs and the possibility of bridging narrow gaps. A critical advantage, for there were many narrow canyons that could be bypassed in this manner and sheer escarpments surmounted similarly.
While we worked, the caravaneers and the remainder of the expedition camped at the base of the winding trail beneath the fortress and put together a furious din each day. The Redbone Explorers put on spare Winged Cavalry armor and marched back and forth around the camp carrying the imperial banner while the cultists watched from high above. In this way the work elsewhere in the badlands proceeded unnoticed and unmolested. Critical, because I and those I tasked to seek out possible paths were very vulnerable to attack in the convoluted contortion of canyons and crevasses.
The days were exceedingly busy. I left camp each day at dawn and did not return until all light was lost. I rode about the landforms endlessly and walked the stone-hard soil paths pounded into being by centuries of foraging goat hooves until my feet bled. A supply of mapping skins intended to last months vanished beneath my pen in just a few afternoons and I was at great risk of running out of ink each day before night fell. My mind swam and bent until even in my dreams I swam through the twisting channels of the badlands.
Not that it is appropriate to single myself out for achievement. Everyone worked exceedingly hard, knowing time was against us and failure meant a forced charge at the gate with utterly certain death awaiting. A profoundly motivating scenario, one that we, with the honor of the whole empire resting upon our shoulders, rose to meet.
At this point I must once again express my deep gratitude to the Lady Indili, for though the sorcerers properly stood aside and did not involve themselves in this squabble in any way, it was only through the lessons she had imparted in the long conversations shared across the desert that allowed me to unlock the secrets of the badlands. The key was not found in the desolate present, but rather the distant past eons when the long-compressed soils formed. The channels and canyons reflect the legacy of flowing water as it ran in those ancient days, a time of a lush realm of forests, rivers, and lakes covering what is now the sun-baked wreckage. Though only the Divines recall them as they truly were, scattered fragments remain, as in an ancient city buried for thousands of years.
Slivers of bone, sinuous lines of deep crimson earth, and even crystalline shapes of distinctive structure emerged as the guides to the path of a mighty river of the times long gone. Once, it had run into and out of the lake bottom that now formed the central plateau. The outflow path represented the only true route upward, and that was well-guarded, but there had been, in those days, a route by which water reached the lake from the northwest. Though obscured by shifting winds, it was traceable once the ages reversed in the vision of the land, a recoverable guide to reach the very edge of the plateau.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
It took three attempts to find this path on the fourth day, and five different ladders were needed to bridge gaps slashed out by storm and flood. Much of the ancient watercourse occupied a canyon so deep that at night not even the stars could be seen from its bottom and the line of march would need to be tied together. The final approach to the base of the walls demanded a climb up eight meters of rope ladder hanging free in the air, a lethal fall waiting to claim any who let go. Yet only a sentry positioned exactly above that point could possibly notice an attacker making the ascent.
Given a year a team of masons could secure this path with stone and stairs and render the fortress far more vulnerable to attack than ever before. After this route was passed on to General Kutumush, this was indeed done. The fortress was in time abandoned, an empty ruin only trusted by fools. But that was years in the future. In those summer days the path was harrowing indeed.
On the fifth morning of the expedition's pause outside the badlands the Silversheen Mercenaries arrived. Their force numbered thirty strong, a fine number, and all were mounted. Only nine would fight that way, the others being infantry and crossbowmen. They were led by Captain Sasinah Kaslana, a half-Nikkad, half-Sairn officer in her middle years with over twenty years in service to her name. This was the same officer we had met hunting bandits earlier on the road. In addition to her commission, she was a master of the blade, a true Silver Warrior. Her initial judgment was that the stealth assault was madness and that as Erun had proposed the cultists must be lured out onto the approach. Only after Erun made it clear that he and the imperial guard contingent would attempt the attack over the wall supported or not was an agreement reached. Many mercenaries would have refused any part of this plan, being without pride and openly willing to indulge in blatant cowardice, but the Silversheen Company is something more substantial. Their reputation moves them, and the captain could not bear the shame of refusing to take part if the empire was willing to attack alone.
Erun proclaimed a day of rest, for all were tired, and the night march would commence at midnight on the sixth day. The intent was to breach the fortress at dawn on the same. Everyone was tense as they slept through the heat of one of the final days of summer and readied to fight and die come the morning. Blades were sharpened, armor polished, and each man, including every one of the Silversheen soldiers, took prayer with the Princess. Though none among the mercenaries could claim imperial citizenship, it would seem that the mark of royalty possesses a universal regard, at least in one worthy of it.
The maps produced at this time, in the Tenth Year of Enduring Peace, were the first to ever attempt to properly chart the details of the Sun-Scorched Badlands using professional techniques. These were, in time, combined into a single topographic reference with fine artistic refinement and copies were granted to the Emperor, the Khagan of Sunshtasgus, and the Marshal of the Silversheen Company. Much aid was required to produce them, but they were, given the time constraints and stresses of those days, an achievement in which I take great pride. Hopefully they will prove useful to future visitors of that blasted landscape. Perhaps sorcerers will use them as they search for the many old bones peeking out of the eroded hills. Precision maps of complex terrain may have uses in many regions for that purpose, and also for mining and the search for water. Possibly even the haunts of mystic creatures could be anticipated in this way.
The Kharal long believed that mystic beasts were common in the badlands, including gigantic lizards, spiders, and the rare winged beast that stands upright known as a garuda. In their cups and speaking of the deepest depths they even claimed the legendary naga might still be found in this place. Such creatures are said to be capable of both speech and sorcery. Perhaps it was so. The scouting effort found a few old footprints. Bits of degraded webbing, strange feathers, and curious scales, but no encounters were recorded with any live creatures. Doubtless the cultists hunted them extensively and whatever few remained took refuge in the most inaccessible of places. Tales of lizards with horned ridges on their skulls that grow to the size of horses and donkey-sized hunting spiders are well-documented, and I later observed such creatures elsewhere in Shdustu, even inspecting the carcass of one such spider in some detail. I reserve greater skepticism regarding the existence of garuda. While the distortion-based power of wizardry has produced numerous giant birds, especially falcons and eagles, the idea of one that walks like a human seems more like wish-fulfillment on the part of the Kharal. Though, it would be admittedly difficult to recognize such a thing on the wing. Perhaps they once existed in some numbers, but now, much like dragons, are exceedingly rare. As to the naga, while they are well attested to in ancient treatises, there have been no well-supported sightings in centuries, and the old legends speak of ruthless purging of these creatures. Shdustu contains many serpents, but if those blessed with the ability to reason still slither across the grasslands, none can prove it.