They will not escape my wrath. Now that I have located their leader, their time is at an end.

- Elusco, Bane of the Sadmora. Dated 73 b.f.

War raged through the dense fog. Erratic, purple flashes of energy clashed against the deep brown mist, driving it back to form clusters of violet energy that pulsed with a steady heartbeat.

In some places, the mist surged, using its Arts of Wood and Shadow to sever any tendrils that wandered too far out from the clusters. In others, the clusters pulsed, their tendrils latching smaller clots and pulling them in, merging into one massive ball of writhing, violet energy.

Without will, without conscience, these two parties clashed on, each one intent on annihilating the other, heedless of their own losses. Two Arts had made their home inside the fog, those of Wood and Shadow, the latter inexperienced, but eager to prove its worth nonetheless.

On occasion, the Art of Shadow would support the brown mist, creating an armor of shadow around it as they fought against the intruder, desperate to drive back the corruptive energies and control the mutations it caused. Yet, the Arts fought a losing battle.

The Taint was relentless, a never-ending tide of energy growing inside the Inner Landscape where the battle was fought.

Blanketed by the shadow of a massive, jagged spike almost resembling a tower jutting out of the crimson sands, a body lay, twitching and spasming as it fought the foreign energies. Two people stood around it, their eyes sunken, their torn clothing doing little to shelter them from the desert heat. A Spriggan hugged the head of the unconscious body to its chest, eyes closed.

The Drakh glanced at the Adjhin’tor, whose eyes were burning into the unconscious body.

“We need to do something, Zaya,” the Drakh said, her voice soft.

“Nura kai,” the Adjhin’tor cursed under her breath. The skin of the unconscious boy was feverish, sweat pearls dripping down onto the red sand. She momentarily tore her eyes away from the body.

“What can we do? We can’t carry him and walk far. Sun will burn us.” She scratched her arms, frowning at the red marks her nails had left behind.

“We can’t wait until night comes, either,” Nurana reasoned. “We will freeze to death.”

“Better wait here until he wakes up than die in heat. I want see how far you can carry him before you drop. Not far, I think.”

Nurana lowered her voice to calm her friend. “We can’t just sit here and wait for our own death.”

Zaya sent a dangerous glare towards Nurana. “We will not abandon him.”

“That’s not what I was saying, I—”

“Creak!” Gnarly’s face was contorted in pain, his eyes closed as he wrapped his arms tighter around Silas’ face. “Creak, creak.”

Silas’ mouth opened, blood flowing down his cracked lips. His lungs heaved, sucking in the dry air in large gasps before coughing uncontrollably. His eyes shot open and he sat up, spitting sand as he stared at them with wide eyes.

His mouth moved for a moment before the first words came out. “What happened? Did it—“ Silas’ words were interrupted by another fit of coughing.

“Creak, creak, creak,” Gnarly interrupted him.

“Breathe, Silas.” Nurana handed him a waterskin.

“Stupid boy! What you think doing that? I thought you dead!”

“Creak, creak,” Gnarly began to calm her down.

“No, Gnarly, boy needs to hear! We almost all die!” Zaya wiped her eyes.

Silas slowly calmed his breathing. Even now, he could feel the vile taste of the Taint in his mouth. It was everywhere, permeating the very air of the Crimson Dunes.

“There was no other way,” he croaked. “We wouldn’t have defeated the Sphinx otherwise. Did we even defeat it? And how did we get back to the surface?”

“Because I carry you, Nura Kai. You be very heavy for someone with such little head.”

Nurana laid a hand on Zaya’s shoulder. “The explosion caused the roof of the chamber to collapse and bury the Sphinx under it. We nearly drowned in the sand that came rushing down down the chamber. We wouldn’t have gotten out if it weren’t for Gnarly. He created a vine we used as rope.”

“Creak, creak,” Gnarly nodded, puffing out his chest. He had shrunk down again, only reaching up to Silas’ knee.

“Impressive,” Silas strained to smile at his friend. He tried not to show it, but his eyes had problems focusing. His vision swam, and he reached a hand out to steady himself. The water trickled down his parched throat, the pain momentarily subsiding.

“How are you feeling? I closed the worst of your wounds, but you’re not healed by any means.”

“Wounds?” Silas had closed his eyes again to get the nausea under control. His whole body hurt. He could feel the Taint ravaging through his Landscape, a constant burning pain that made him want to retch the moment he focused on it.

“No, no, don’t touch it!” Nurana slapped his hand away before he could unravel the bandages around his head.

Silas’ eyes blazed with sudden fury as he looked at Nurana. “Do that—“

“Creak!” Gnarly pinched his stomach, and Silas yelped in surprise. Nausea overcame him as he tried to get the Taint under control. Rage simmered inside his Landscape, waiting to erupt. That had been far too close.

“Sorry about that. Where are we?”

Nurana gave him a wary glance. “Somewhere in the Crimson Dunes. Al-Talash is not that far away, this is the first spot in the shade we could find.”

Silas nodded, concentrating on the familiar connection with Gnarly to distract himself from the pain. Where Gnarly had been a bulwark of reassurance, now he felt weak. Silas’ Magesight showed him faint streaks of energy leaking from Gnarly, surrounding him in a soft sheen. “What’s going on, Gnarly?”

“Creak.” Gnarly pulled on the bond, inviting Silas to look deeper. When Silas focused on his friend, his throat clenched as he saw Gnarly’s Inner Landscape. The deep-brown shell encasing his Landscape had cracks spreading over it, some of them so big green wisps of energy leaked out of them.

Silas knew Gnarly’s transformation fighting the Sphinx hadn’t come without a cost, but the damage he saw on Gnarly’s shell was severe. It took nearly all of Gnarly’s energy just to prevent the energy from constantly dissipating through the cracks.

Tears welled up in Silas’ eyes. Healing damage to one’s Landscape was notoriously difficult, if not impossible. If the cracks continued to spread, more and more energy would leave Gnarly’s Landscape until there was nothing left. Without energy, there would be no life.

Silas wouldn’t let that happen. Gnarly had made a sacrifice protecting them against the Sphinx, and Silas would do everything to heal his friend.

“We’ll find a way, Gnarly. I promise.”

Silas ground his teeth. If he had awakened his Art of Shadow earlier, Gnarly wouldn’t be in this situation. Now, it was Silas’ responsibility to make up for it.

Zaya knelt near Gnarly. “Be hurt, big friend?”

“It’s his Landscape. It’s leaking. His shell is damaged, and I don’t know how to repair it. He shrunk down to conserve energy.” He sent a helpless look at Zaya. “We have to find a way to heal him, Zaya. We have to.”

Zaya laid a hand on Silas’ shoulder. “We will.”

Silas met her gaze, drawing strength from the resolution in her eyes. “Do we have a plan on how to get out of here?”

“Go west after you can walk and hope to find oasis.”

Silas looked around the red desert, the dunes shimmering in the afternoon sun. A wave of nausea overtook him as he heaved, forcefully gulping down again what little water he had drunk. “I can walk.”

Zaya feinted a punch at his face, to which he didn’t react. Not like he could have. “You sure? Look very bad.”

“Thanks, I’ve been worse.”

Zaya let out a snort and stood up, holding out a hand to pull him up. Silas cocked an eyebrow and slowly stood up on his own, trying not to sway as he did so. They didn’t have many hours of daylight left, and he refused to be the reason his friends waited here any longer. Zaya grumbled under her breath as he ignored her help.

“Let’s move out, then.”

Silas shuffled after them, and for the first time, he got a view of the Crimson Dunes up close. The scenery had already been impressive from up in the mountains, but now, the surreality of it all struck him.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Back then, the Dunes had been in constant movement, endless swaths of sand shifting in an unknown rhythm, jagged spikes of black stone that almost resembled towers slowly rising from the ground, the massive purple thunderstorm seeming like a relentless, unnatural force of nature, charring the sands black wherever it’s bolts of lightning hit.

Now, the whole scene was eerily still. Some towers stood half-buried, seeming like they were ready to resume their endless cycle at any given moment. Somewhere to the south, a massive hole gaped through the sands, leading to gods knew where, ravines of red sand flowing down like rivers of pearly, dark blood, catching the scorching sunlight. The massive thunderstorm had already shrunk, flickers of violet lightning flashing through it.

They walked through the desert in silence, no one having the energy to chat. Silas tried to keep track of their surroundings, but he had trouble focusing his vision on anything for more than a few heartbeats. At least they had the tall stone spikes around them to avoid walking in circles. Choosing to rest for a moment under the shadow of one of the towers, they all sat down as Nurana gave him her water flask.

“Relish it, it’s the last we have.”

Silas held the flask upside down, lapping up every drop of water with his tongue. He knew he couldn’t go on much longer, if at all.

Zaya’s head jerked to the side, brows furrowed in concentration. “Something is coming.” She turned to Silas. “Can you fight?”

Silas tried to smile. “I can try.” He stood up, both hands holding on to his spear for balance.

The ground between them erupted, a stinger the size of his arm stabbing at his gut. Silas moved to dodge, but his legs failed him as he collapsed. Something crunched, and Silas’ ears were filled with the screech of a dying insect. Propping himself up on the spear, he saw Zaya narrowly dodging a pincer from a dog-sized scorpion. Her arm shoot forward and a rock loosened itself from the stone, smashing the creature’s head into a pulp.

More scorpions emerged from the sands, skittering towards them as Zaya fended them off, screams of rage coming from her. Seeing the scene, something from his Inner Landscape began to surge, filling him with violet, uncontrollable energy. Before he knew it, he was in front of a scorpion, his spear clutched in his hands.

One of the scorpions’ stinger shot forward, seeming oddly slow to Silas as he turned his shoulder and stabbed the creature through its mouth all the way into its brain. Green sludge escaped as he pulled his spear back out. The fight was over as sudden as it began, half a dozen scorpions lying dead around them.

Silas’ head jerked around, eyes wide as he looked for more enemies. Something tingled at his awareness, and it took him a moment to realize it was Gnarly. Seeing that the fight was over, the strength abruptly left him, his knees buckling as he fell. He lay there for a moment, heaving aching breaths through his burning lungs.

Zaya kneeled on the sand beside him, retching onto the sand. “Hate Taint. So much anger. Hard to stop fighting, sometimes.”

“We need to be more careful,” Nurana said, who seemed the least affected. “I don’t think I could fend off against either of you if you hadn’t stopped fighting on your own.”

“I don’t know what came over me just now. I saw these things, and suddenly something in my Landscape surged, making everything disappear apart from the scorpions. It was scary, honestly.”

Nurana stared at him. “I saw violet streaks flashing through your eyes, Silas. It seemed like something took control of you. Whatever that was, please don’t do it again,” she insisted.

Silas nodded, too tired to speak more.

“We need to move,” Zaya announced, peeking out into the desert. “If we not find something before night, we be dead.”

Nurana nodded, glancing at Silas, who was still sprawled on the sand. “Can you stand?”

“Of course,” he groaned, heaving himself up, only for his knees to give way under him.

“Creak!” Gnarly rushed over to him, one hand resting on his chest, Gnarly’s amber eyes resolute. Silas gave him a mental nod to tell him he was alright. Gnarly’s presence in the back of Silas’ mind was reduced to a barely noticeable flame, the fight with the Sphinx having taken a toll on him.

It was frustrating how little Silas knew about Gnarly and Spriggans in general. In order to help Gnarly heal, Silas would have to change that. He had depended on Gnarly countless times, and now it was his turn to repay the favor.

“Nurana, help me carry him,” Zaya ordered. “You left, me right.”

Nurana nodded, putting one arm below Silas’ shoulder. They walked on, slower this time. Despite their help, Silas had trouble keeping on his feet. His legs felt like jelly, and if it weren’t for Gnarly communicating with him through the bond, he’d have fallen unconscious long ago.

“Do you guys see that?” Nurana broke the silence.

Silas lifted his head and squinted into the distance. Far to their left, a black dot had appeared, slowly growing bigger as it headed straight in their direction. “Let’s just hope they’re not bandits.”

“Not many bandits in the desert,” Nurana commented. “The Empress holds a pretty tight rein on her domain. If they approach us, let me do the talking.”

By now, the dot had formed into a large shape, even from this distance. How were they approaching so fast? Silas stopped for a moment and tried to make sense of what he saw. Was that a ship?

The hull was completely flat, with a slight upturn at its pointed bow. The lack of a sail or mast gave the ship a surreal look. It seemed as if the sand itself parted before the ship as it skimmed over the dunes, faster than anything Silas had ever seen.

The ship came to a stop an arrow’s reach away from them. Three figures hopped off and made their way towards the group.

“This Sandcruiser belongs to the Empress’s royal guard. Don’t say a thing,” Nurana warned them as she took a step forward and bowed before the approaching group, their faces concealed with beige cloth. “Glory to the Empress.”

“Glory to the Empress,” the shortest of them responded. A coyote trailed his side, its small, orange eyes shifting between Silas and Zaya. “Where are you coming from?”

“We escaped from a ruin not far from here. We’ve been trying to find a way out of the Crimson Dunes.”

“What kind of ruin?”

Nurana hesitated. “A large one. I dare not make speculations, but it seems as if it could have been a city, once.”

Silas didn’t like the way the figure’s black eyes bored into Nurana. Someone to his right whispered something into the ear of the short figure, and the two exchanged a few clipped sentences, too low for Silas to make out. The taller then sprinted towards the boat, where around a dozen more veiled figures gazed down at the group. Gnarly creaked softly, peeking out from Silas’ cloak to glance at the coyote. It had to be bonded to the leader of the Sandcruiser.

“We will provide you with a Karash to transport you back to Nu-Taquim. From now on, you are under the Empress’ protection. For how long have you been subjected to The Taint?”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure, but at least a full moon.”

The figure drew in a sharp breath and stepped closer, his gaze lingering on Silas. “This one is badly affected. Any outbursts so far?”

Nurana looked at the veiled warrior, her gaze shifting from him to the figures standing on the Sancruiser. “Just one,” she answered.

The man reached into a pocket of his robe and dug out a small vial of a pearly liquid. “This will serve as a temporary remedy. However, each of you will still need to be detained. Except maybe that one,” he said, pointing at Gnarly. “I cannot risk any of you to attack my crew. The Taint is simply too unpredictable. I hope you understand.”

Keeping his eyes on Nurana, he shouted something in Drakhonian and one of the crew members hopped off the boat and handed him three pairs of silver shackles.

Silas could feel the magic emanating from them, his Inner Landscape revolting at the thought of being detained. There was no way he would let them put shackles on his wrists. His muscles twitched, his hand tightening around the spear clutched in his grip. The man shot a look at him but didn’t seem fazed. “Once inside the city, Rachnami here,” he pointed at the figure standing a few feet behind him, ”will escort you to the healers. They will decide when to take them off.”

Nurana dipped her head. “We thank you for your generous help. I don’t think we would have made it much longer if you hadn’t come for us.”

The man huffed a short laugh. “No, you certainly wouldn’t have.”

Silas twitched as the boat omitted a loud crack and a huge lizard began to slither out of its back. A long, parted tongue licked the scorching desert air, yellow, narrow eyes flicking between Silas and the rest of the group. A seat with a canopy was mounted on its back. Silas was immediately reminded of the fire-spitting lizards they had fought in Al-Talash. At least the one coming out of the ship only had four legs, instead of six.

“Any questions?” the figure interrupted Silas’ staring.

“Might I ask your name, so we may repay our debt?”

“My name is Jaquil nur-Tarosh, secondary head of the royal guard, but there is nothing to repay. I merely act upon the Empress’ orders. Please put them on yourself,” he said, handing out the three pairs of shackles.

Nurana moved to put them around Silas’s wrists. The energy in him boiled, screaming to be let loose. Violet flashes coursing through his Inner Landscape, he did everything he could to keep it in. How dare the man demand them to be shackled? All it would take was one quick movement, a single stab with his spear…

“Silas.” Nurana stood before him, her back turned to the waiting figure. “Silas, you need to do this.”

He looked into her pleading eyes, the storm in his body calming for a heartbeat. She was afraid. Silas first glanced at the ship, then at the lizard observing them. Silas gulped. Attacking them would be his death sentence. What had he been thinking?

He held out his wrists, clenching his teeth as the shackles clicked into place. Soon after, the metal connecting them shifted and squeezed over his skin, bounding his hands tight together. Silas let out a gasp as a freezing wave of cold washed over him and the world around him dimmed.

With a painful snap, the connection to his Inner Landscape was gone. It felt like someone had ripped a piece out of him. Even his Magesight was blocked. The connection to Gnarly was still there, however. So was the energy in his body. Strange.

“I’m sorry, I realize it is a most unpleasant experience. However, once the healers affirm you aren’t of any danger to those around you, they will remove them.”

Silas glared up at the man. The shackles might suppress his Inner Landscape and his Arts, but Silas had infused his body with magic for over a year. If he could punch through stone, he could break these shackles. But the man, Jaquil, didn’t need to know that. Not for the first time, Silas wondered why no Mages in Ceraviehl practiced body enhancements like Tom had taught him.

“Thank you for your cooperation. Safe travels,” Jaquil wished them once all of them had shackles around their wrists. Gnarly creaked soothingly from Silas’ cloak. He had shrunk again, probably to preserve energy. Silas would need to find someone who knew more about Spriggans to ensure Gnarly recovered as soon as possible.

“To you as well,” Nurana bid him farewell.

Rachnami led them to the overgrown lizard, apparently named a Karash. They had only made a few steps towards the creature when it slithered behind the boat as if to hide. A moment later, a distant roar rolled over the sands, and the group whipped around as one. Far in the distance, a few black shapes flew in their direction, their large forms dominating the skies.

“Onto the ship, now!”

Rachnami clicked her tongue, and the lizard disappeared back into the hull. The group soon followed, running awkwardly up the slope of the ship to catch sight of the incoming monsters.

The captain, a woman with a puckered scar on her left cheek, yelled one order after the other. Silas was too busy staring at the sky. Even from the distance, there was no mistaking what he saw. Few people had seen a Dragon in their life and come out alive to tell the tale, and now five were rapidly approaching their ship. Although still far away, there was no outrunning a Dragon.

Silas yelped in surprise as the ship lurched forward and he fell down, hitting his head.

“By the Originals, if I see even one of you slacking off, I will personally dig each of your graves, am I understood?” the captain shouted, holding onto the railing with one hand as she tried to glare at each of her crew members at once.

“Yes, Captain!”

“The Matriarch’s brood is upon us. Ixchel, protect us,” Nurana whispered.

Zaya shook her head. “I don’t think Gods will help us against the children of Aksha’nam.”

Silas couldn’t help but agree. One Dragon was noticeably larger than the rest, and he tucked in his wings, its gigantic form plummeting towards the desert, the others soon following suit. They landed somewhere near the ruins of Al-Talash, their wings beating up clouds of sand as they caught their fall and landed on the red desert.

Silas’ heart gradually stopped beating against his chest as the Sandcruiser put more distance between them and the Dragons ravaging the area around Al-Talash, their tails and claws digging into the sand.

Hadn’t the Sphinx mentioned something about the Matriarch? If so, what could her kind want from Al-Talash? As their Sandcruiser sent them soaring over the desert and a dune hid the Dragons from his view, Silas hoped he would never have to see one again.