I am the last one left. Ibrahim, my dear friend, passed away yesterday, rambling nonsense about wanting to go back. Going back was not an option. Not after what we discovered. Not after what I discovered. I just wish he’d understood. Letters swimming before my eyes. My hand is shaking. We found it. We actually found it.
The fools, I would prove them all wrong. Buried deep in the Crimson Dunes, it lies dormant, as it has for millennia. Waiting to be unearthed, by me. I can feel its Taint creeping into my bones. It wasn’t that bad, at first. I haven’t eaten in days. We had no other option. Ibrahim agreed with me on this. He would understand. So hungry. I just can’t take it anymore. He would understand. I’m sorry, friend.
Last diary entry from Hassahn nur-Moutair, adventurer. Believed to have perished somewhere in the Crimson Dunes.
Silas would have liked a moment to admire the view if they weren’t so busy clambering up the mountain. Wide at the bottom and narrow at the top, the famous pass looked like the eye of a needle with high, smooth grey walls on either side. It had appeared nearer from the distance. The Invokers had closed in on them with surprising speed, their horses’ hooves thundering over the plains and sending clouds of dust in their wake.
“If we reach the top of the pass, we should be able to shake them off,” Nurana panted.
Everybody was too busy breathing to speak, the lack of sleep and the constant exertion taking a toll on them. The pass gradually sloped upwards, their jog soon turning into a hasty climb. At least the Invokers would have to abandon their horses if they wanted to follow them. Silas had almost reached the top when a noise echoing from below made them turn around.
“In the Legion’s name, stop!”
A group of six people stood at the base of the pass. Even from the distance, Silas felt his muscles tense as the woman at the front looked up at him.
“If you choose to cooperate, we promise to give you a fair trial. However, if you try to flee, you will be executed.”
Nurana’s dark eyes flickered warily between Silas and Zaya. If they decided to turn her in willingly, the Legion’s judges might be lenient. Yet, Silas knew it was far too late to appeal for clemency. They had killed two Mages of the Guild on an official mission—the best thing they could hope for was getting thrown into the crystal mines to work until they were dead.
Zaya stared down at the group of Artists, the rocks around her rattling as she balled her fists. “Where go now, Nurana?”
The pass ended in front of a massive jagged mountain, a few stubborn cedars and hemlocks clinging to its rocky surface. Three paths lay ahead of them, two wedged in between the mountain and one going straight to the west. The Drakh pointed at the path to the south, her posture relaxing again. “The fastest route to the Endless Desert is this one. But we need to be careful to not go veer too far westwards.”
Silas nodded. He didn’t know how much about the Crimson Dunes was hearsay and what truth, but he didn’t want to push his luck, either. They chose the southern path in silent agreement, Silas throwing one last glance at the group of Invokers at the bottom of the mountain pass. While he was rather confident to defend himself from any stray animals, he wasn’t eager to test his mettle against a fully-trained squad of Invokers.
The path sloped downwards in a zig-zag pattern, snaking around the towering mountains leading them to the Endless Desert. If they could reach the territory of the Drakh before the Invokers caught up to them, they might have a chance. Ceraviehl and the Drakh weren’t exactly on the friendliest terms, and a squad of Invokers might hesitate to enter the Sands without invitation. At least Silas hoped so.
The way was treacherous, stones skidding loose under their feet. Nurana fell more than once, her back bent as she shuffled along. An exhausted silence settled over the small group, each of them focused on staying ahead of the Invokers.
Before them, the path suddenly opened up, revealing an intersection. A giant red oak stood right in the middle of it, looking oddly out of place between the thin pines and gangly cedars that populated the rocks.
Nurana let out a relieved sigh. “If we go straight south, we should reach the Desert before sun’s descent.”
Gnarly suddenly stopped, drawing Silas’ attention. “Creak,” he voiced, pointing to another path far to their right up in the mountains. Zaya, after following Gnarly’s finger, let out a string of unintelligible curses. Fear gripped Silas’ heart. At least three robed figures ran across the path like it was nothing. For a moment, silence stretched itself between the group. Eventually, Silas said what none of them wanted to admit.
“We can’t continue south. We’ll just run straight into them. Also, where is the rest of the squad?” He glanced behind them, yet couldn’t see far, the mountains blocking his sight. “So what do we do?” he asked, already dreading the answer.
Nurana grimaced. “We go west and hope they won’t follow us.”
“And if they do?”
“We fight, little boy,” Zaya said, leading the way downwards.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Nurana mumbled.
“Creak.”
“Have idea,” Zaya began, turning towards Silas. “Why not tell your people to stop chasing us? Might help.”
Silas shot her an irritated look. “These are not my people, they are just Invokers from the Legion.”
“Tell them that, I be sure they listen.”
Silas bit back his answer. These were the same words he’d used when they’d tried to enter Kuzant and seen the swarm of refugees trying to enter the city. Of course she’d turn his own words back against him, just to prove a point. He had nothing to do with these Invokers, and she knew it. Insufferable girl.
While the path would lead them closer to the Crimson Dunes, it might also deter the Invokers from pursuing them further. If they reached the bottom of the trail, they could hide somewhere for a day or two and then backtrack to make their way into a safer region of the Endless Sands.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
The air in the mountains cooled as they hiked well into the day, the sun once again hiding behind the tall western mountains. Dusk hesitantly settled over the rocks. They made a few short pauses in between, never allowing themselves to rest for long.
Rounding another corner, everyone stopped as one. Below them, large swaths of crimson sand flowed as far as the eye could see, giving the region its namesake. The air shimmered with heat. The desert was surprisingly uneven, with massive dunes looking like tiny hills from above.
Yet, for all its beauty, Silas couldn’t help but feel uneasy as he looked down. Even from this far away, something seemed off about the Dunes. The color seemed unnatural and the very air felt laden with uncontained energy.
Various jagged spires jutted out of the sand in regular intervals, forming some kind of formation, their cruel sharp tips piercing the skies. Each of them looked exactly alike. Far to the west, a massive sandstorm roiled over the dunes, sickly yellow lightning crashing into the ground everywhere the storm went. Not a single cloud could be seen in the skies.
Suddenly, the sands shifted, revealing a previously covered spire, only to swallow up another one immediately afterward. The farther down they walked, the more anxious Silas became.
Wide, serrated fissures drew themselves over the rock near the foot of the mountain, the ground broken and upturned. Caverns littered the mountainside as if someone had poked holes into the rock. Crimson grains of sand shimmered below the evening sun, flowing down into the cracks like water and disappearing within their depths.
Nurana put a hand over her eyes as she squinted at the rocks below. “If we can hide in one of those caverns, I doubt the Invokers will be able to find us.”
“Let’s hurry up, then. We’re almost there.”
Gnarly stared at the distance to their right. “Creak, creak!” Silas followed his friend’s gaze but found nothing. A broad mountain wall blocked their sight, marking the end of the mountain pass. It was the last juncture of the trails.
They made their way downwards as fast as they could, their tired legs invigorated by the prospect of being able to rest. Neither of them had slept for over a day. They had just made it past the last juncture when a spike of alarm from Gnarly made Silas abruptly turn around.
Three of the Invokers ran around the corner, their long strides carrying them straight towards Silas and his friends.
“Guys.” The tone of his voice made them stop immediately.
Dread settled over the small group. They were too late. If only they had been a little bit faster. Zaya was the first to speak up, squaring her feet as she faced the incoming Invokers. “Let’s see if these Vokha be stronger than the Nurai in city.”
Silas felt the knot in his stomach loosen a bit as he saw Zaya staring the approaching Invokers down. She hadn’t even hesitated. While she might be insufferable at times, he knew he could rely on her if push came to shove. For him, that was all that mattered.
Drawing the bow was surprisingly easy. Once more connecting the weapon to his Inner Landscape, Silas relished in the sensation of familiarity it brought with it. Over time, the bow had become more than a simple weapon. More than a tool. The bow was his companion, something he felt rather than used as a simple means to an end.
From the upper to its lower limb, every part of its being resonated with his Art. It welcomed the energy from his Landscape, humming in pleasure as it absorbed more and more power. At the same time, strings of azure mist were woven into the fibers of the arrow, looking like pulsing veins to his Artsight. For the first time, he noticed Gnarly’s presence latch onto the arrow, enhancing the projectile with his own Art.
But why would Gnarly infuse the arrow with the Art of wood? No, wait. This wasn’t the Art of wood, it was something different. It smelled of new beginnings, reminding Silas of a plant that opened its petals to welcome the sun or the first stalks of crocus sprouting in spring.
Shamrock veins of life joined his own, creating a myriad of colors as the energies merged. Both of their Arts worked in perfect sync, each one complementing the other. Time seemed to slow as the string grew taut. Everything around him faded as his perception zoned onto his target.
Exhaling one last time, Silas released, the pressure in his shoulder vanishing in an instant.
The air got knocked out of his lungs as the arrow exploded forward. His right arm, hand still clenching the bow, shook uncontrollably, the string vibrating from the sudden release. He almost fell from the recoil if it weren’t for Zaya steadying him. Silas took in a short breath upon seeing the projectile humming through the air. He now knew which Art Gnarly had infused the arrow with.
The thin arrow began to turn like a drill and expand, transforming into a massive, six feet-long javelin that threatened to impale the Invokers. Deep lines of chartreuse pulsed with glowing light as the projectile shot towards them.
The three Invokers abruptly stopped, one of them erecting a thick, earthen bulwark to stop the incoming javelin. An ear-piercing explosion tore through the air as the heavy projectile collided with the hastily erected wall. Clouds of dust erupted from the ground, obscuring their view.
A gust of air cleared the dust, revealing the body-sized hole his arrow had left in the bulwark. One of the Invokers was bleeding heavily, his right arm missing. Far behind them, a deep crater had torn into the surface of the rock, splinters of wood lying strewn about. For a moment, Silas couldn’t believe his eyes.
The javelin had completely torn through the bulwark, bypassed whatever other defenses the Invokers had, and created an actual hole in the wall of the rock deep enough he could have sat in it.
A long spike of stone launched itself at the Invokers, then another. Turning his head, he saw a dozen more spikes hovering in front of Zaya. Hands balled into fists, she punched the air with practiced movements as the spears launched forward one by one, each aimed at a different Invoker.
This time, however, they were prepared. A tall man with sunken eyes threw both of his hands to the side, his face scrunched up in concentration. The spikes began to quiver before steering off course, crashing into the ground as stone met stone.
The woman, presumably their leader, scowled at them. “You should have surrendered when you had the chance.” Her fingers tensed up, forming two claws that pointed at the top of the rocky wall. A series of sharp cracks echoed through the mountains. The rocks rumbled, and Silas saw the tip of the wall beginning to topple over.
“We need to run,” Nurana said, her calm demeanor long gone.
They retreated as fast as they could, but it was too late. Above, a massive part of the wall came crashing down, threatening to crush them under its weight. Like a giant’s fist, it completely blotted out the sun as it descended, its shadow blanketing the whole area. They wouldn’t make it in time.
Zaya suddenly stopped running and turned around to face the incoming boulder. Something in her gaze shifted. With a start, Silas realized his legs had stopped obeying him, now carrying him towards her. He could see the veins in her arms popping out as she struck both palms upwards. Emerald eyes glowing with energy, an unknown breeze ruffled her long, dark hair. With a scream that belied her little frame, she thrust her palms forward.
The boulder, still in mid-air, began to change its course.
Not by much, but a few yards might be enough. The boulder crashed into the ground in a deafening explosion, and Silas’ legs crumpled under him. In an instant, all noise died. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t hear a thing. The earth shook from the impact, large cracks beginning to form all around him. Splinters of rock shot in all directions. Something sharp dug into his right arm.
A high-pitched buzzing sound made him wince before his ears popped and he regained his hearing. Screams. Gnarly creaked, doing something with his arms. A deep grating of rock against rock, loud cracks from below as the earth threatened to swallow him up.
He caught a glimpse of a small body lying somewhere to his left. “Zaya!” Heedless of the piece of rock sticking out of his shoulder, he righted himself up to stumble towards her, only to fall back down as the earth cracked again, this time even louder.
The ground beneath him opened up, and Silas plunged into the darkness.