The Warchief grunted as he pushed past the cat. He looked down at the temple with a cautious eye. It was so hot that the movements one saw down below might be mistaken for mirages. But there was a way in that they moved that told the Warchief that down below waited enemies. Their guide had led them to their goal, as well as a trap. A trap that might very well be what kills them, he thought. At least they may die to blades and not this cursed heat.

Magnus stood beside him and looked down with the same sort of expression he probably had. Even the human knew something was wrong. But he didn't voice his thoughts. Neither did the Warchief. He'd rather have some sort of cover than to fight in the shifting sand. At least the temple was built on solid stone, he thought as he led the last of his forces down the dune and towards the temple.

Some of his forces weren't quite so observant and rush towards the idea of shelter and solid ground. A portion of his forces at least had the good sense to be wary, he thought as he led them into the sandstone complex. Many buildings littered the area around the domed temple itself. The entire place was abandoned from its previous occupants from the looks of it, the Warchief thought as they eased their way down a road that had small dunes of sand littering the path. Their guide walked along without a care in the world. A far cry from the fearful persona he had when he first met them.

The Warchief lost sight of his forces that rushed ahead as they broke down crumbling doors and hurled themselves into the cool homes. Some broke pots in the hopes of getting fresh water, but nothing was within save for dried food long since turned to dust or sand.

"Do you see them too?" Magnus whispered to the Warchief when their guide had gone far enough ahead.

"Yes. They've been following us for some time now." The Warchief rumbled back, keeping his eyes on their surroundings.

"What do you plan to do?"

"Fight or die. But not here. Somewhere that's more favorable." The Warchief stated and fell back to relay the message along his forces while Magnus did the same for the remaining thralls.

They were in much the same position as he was, as much as they hated being thralls to the orcs, there wasn't a guarantee that their fates would improve should these bandits succeed. At the very least the odds of surviving with the orcs was little better than throwing their efforts behind bandits and thieves.

The air became tense as the orcs went from relieved for the shelter and shade to on alert and defensive. Keeping their eyes on every corner and roof of the seemingly abandoned sandstone temple city. The one-eyed shaman and his entourage of apprentices made their way towards the Warchief. Their favor with the elements seeing them in better condition than the rest of the Warchief's forces. Though they were still sand-blasted and red from the heat just the same as the rest of them. The one-eyed shaman spoke low to the Warchief.

"We should make our way to the temple itself."

"Why? It's sure to be the center of these bandits, or at the very least a place to make a last stand."

"The temple isn't as abandoned as it appears. The elements say that something is keeping everything away from the temple itself." The Old One-Eyed declared cryptically and fell back into place.

The Warchief grumbled but relayed the plan down the line of his forces. At the very least whatever's there might buy them time to come up with a better plan, the Warchief thought as they followed their "guide" down the road towards a run-down marketplace that held the weather beaten remains of market stalls and containers full of dusted remains or sand.

Their "guide" hopped up on the lip of a dried out and sand-filled fountain and turned towards the orcs and thralls with a smug grin on his cat-like features.

"Have you enjoyed your journey, Warchief?"

The orc grunted and glared up at the cat.

"Just get it over with."

The cat tsk'd in disappointment.

"You follow me all this way and you do not even wish to hear why you are about to die?"

"You are thieves, liars, and bandits. Anything you say may as well be a lie." The Warchief rumbled as his hand tightened around his axe while his forces all did the same.

"This is true. However, as dishonorable as you may think, I believe that it is only proper to tell one you are about to kill the reason as to why they are about to die." The catkin declared as he began to pace along the lip as his cohorts emerged from the shadows and abandoned buildings nearby.

Several had bloodied daggers and scimitars that spoke of the fates of the orcs that rushed ahead. Some of them even rose from the sand dunes nearby. They all sported a mix-match of clothing. Some wore darkened leather that allowed them to blend into the shadows while others wore lighter clothes that made crossing the desert easier.

"The truth of the matter is this. We do not like living in this desert. It is hot. There is too much sand. And not near enough water, wine, or women to quench our thirst. We could leave whenever we wish to. But we would then have to contend with other, more wealthy and established, members of our profession. But if we were to return to civilization with the head of the feared warchief that has entire nations offering their whole treasury as bounty? Well, then we can go from simple bandits to a true syndicate! We can live in fine mansions with our choice of slaves and wines, getting whatever we desired with the wealth your head will bring us."

The orc rumbled and hefted his axe.

"You would seek a warchief's head? One who leads countless souls and is feared across even distant lands?"

"With your forces so drained by heat and sun? Yes. Yes I would. We could have attacked at anytime along our journey, but why take the risk when we can let the heat, sun, and lack of water do our work for us?"

"But you needed water just as much as we did. Why slay the water ants for some trinkets that probably did not even matter to you?" Magnus called out as he and the other thralls took ahold of their own improvised weapons.

"It is true that the loss of the water ants is a blow that we will not recover from. We had to. I did not lie when I said that the lizards do not care for the ants. The reason? We do not know. But they would have been none too pleased with their company. The trinkets were of actual value, not nearly as much as I said they were. But traversing the desert was made easier with their assistance. The loss of the ants IS a blow that normally we would not wish to incur. But with the wealth promised by your head? I will take that blow in exchange for the riches you will bring me!" The bandit called out at last and battle commenced!

The Warchief jerked his head to the side and narrowly avoided a thrown dagger that would've severed his throat were he slower. His forces roared and rushed into melee. A tactic that they were well suited for, if not for the fact the bandits had more than likely been planning this for days if not weeks. Cries of his forces echoed out as they rushed headlong into traps or more ambushes as his forces dwindled rapidly as the bandits used throwing daggers, arrows, and any other mean to take the orcs out from a distance.

Magnus and the thralls weren't much better off. They were poorly armed and armored and in worse condition as the orcs were. Adding to that, the bandits didn't seem to care for taking any of them prisoners and attacked them just as much as the orcs. Though not nearly with the same sense of urgency as they did against the orcs.

Still, they fought as best as they could. Magnus drew his rusted sword, a poor substitute from the dwarven forged seafoam steel blade he once wielded, he thought as he met blades with a burly catkin that rushed towards him and the other thralls. The catkin snarled and hissed at him and it took everything Magnus had to keep the blade from breaking his own poorer one.

His saving grace came when the catkin tripped over something, allowing Magnus to disengage from the burlier cat. The irritated bandit looked down at the prone form of the cat woman that had accompanied Magnus. The bandit snarled down.

"Worthless slave!"

The bandit then raised his curved blade to strike down the cat woman. Magnus' eyes widened and threw his own blade on impulse. The poor blade was many things, but it made a half-decent projectile as it sailed through the air and severed the bandit's forearm as it came down to strike. The bandit howled in pain and rage, distracted enough for Magnus to rush over and take possession of the bandit's sword and swing it around at the bandit cutting off his howling with s slash across the neck, sending his body and severed head falling to the sand, painting it a shade of red that Magnus would never forget.

He turned towards the slave girl that starred wide-eyed at the fallen body.

"Are you alright?"

The slave girl turned up towards Magnus and numbly nodded her head.

"Good. Here, take this."

He pulled a pair of daggers from the cloth belt of the now dead bandit and handed them to the slave girl. She took them unsteadily. It might not do much in her hands, claws, whatever, but at least she has a means to defend herself, Magnus thought as he turned his attention back to the fighting. It was going poorly. As great of warriors as the orcs were, they fared worse against the agile and clever bandits that used speed, misdirection, and traps to slow, debilitate, or even outright kill the orcs one by one.

They even had their own magic, Magnus noted as several bandits rose into the air as a small tornado lifted them up. From their vantage point, they hurled wind currents at the orcs, or even at dunes that sent sand flying into the eyes of their foes or activated yet more traps. The Old One-Eyed orc and his apprentices did their best to counter the magic with their own. But the wind favored the bandits over the shamans and failed to heed their calls. Forcing the shamans to resort to throwing lightning at the even more nimble wind-dancers.

Magnus ran towards the Warchief as he held back several bandits that were keeping out of reach of his axe.

"We need to leave!"

The Warchief growled and turned his gaze towards the leader of the bandits, their former guide that stalked along the edges of the battlefield with a carefree smile and leisurely pace as he watched the fighting. The Warchief roared and rushed the nearest bandit, catching the nimble cat by surprise and snapping his neck with a flick of his wrist before tossing the corpse at another attacker, using the chance to drive his axe into the fallen cat. He turned towards his forces and bellowed as he wrenched it free.

"FORWARDS!!!"

His forces listened as best as they were able in the middle of battle and followed after their Warchief, his own wives drawing their own weapons and followed along as they did their best to fight. Some fell to the far more trained bandits as did the last of their beasts of burden. The harem the Warchief was followed by constantly was chipped away as the warbrides threw themselves into combat just as eagerly as the orcs did. Human, elf, other orcs, it didn't matter what race they were, they sought combat just as savagely.

Many paid for it. But there were still plenty that made their way after the Warchief and the rest of his forces. Those more familiar with combat managed to make their way with the rest. Those that weren't, didn't make it. If the Warchief seemed pained from the loss he didn't show it. Magnus doubt he did though. The orcs thought death in combat to be the ultimate honor. It didn't matter if their bodies rotted in the sun, were buried, or given to flame or sea.

Even as they forced their way closer to the temple did the attacks not cease. It wasn't until they crossed a certain boundary that only the bandits knew did the attacks halt. It wasn't hard to see the boundary now that they weren't being attacked immediately, Magnus thought as he looked around and found that a perfect circle was around the domed temple seemingly clear of everything. No bones, no buildings, nothing. Not even mounds of sand.

"Hurry, get inside!" The Warchief called out and his forces rushed towards the large sandstone doors adorned in gold and jewels that depicted a dragon regarding what appeared to be an hourglass.

They forced the doors open as much as they could as the remainder of their forces continued to stream over. Many were wounded and those few that weren't kept an eye out as the bandits started coming out in force and surrounded the area. But none dared to cross the invisible boundary. The bandit leader sauntered over and called out.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I would not recommend going in there! Come back and I will see that your death is much quicker than what you will find inside!"

The other bandits laughed and jeered. The orcs growled and snarled at the teasing. Something Magnus found a little pleasure in as the orcs were now on the receiving end where not long ago the roles were reversed between him and them. With grinding stone, the doors were forced open enough to allow the remaining warhost inside.

The jeers and taunts continued until the large doors were shut behind them. Magnus turned around and beheld the inside of the temple. They were in some sort of entryway. All around them were stone benches and the rotted remains of desks. Unlike outside, the inside had hints of sand here and there. But it was finer than the course sand outside. It was also dark save for a few skylights above allowing the sun to filter in. Several passages led off, but most were too small for them with the main one being the only one big enough for them to pass through.

"Why did we retreat?!" A harsh voice called out.

"We didn't retreat! We moved to a more secured location!" The Warchief roared back at one of the few warband leaders that remained.

"Bah! It was you that lead us here! Into this miserable desert and into this trap! You are not my warchief any longer!" The orc called out and rushed the Warchief with his own axe.

The Warchief snarled and parried the rush before throwing his knee into the gut of the warband leader. Then he swung his axe down and decapitated the orc. The surrounding orcs watched the display. The Warchief panted and turned towards them.

"If you do not wish to follow me any longer than so be it! Leave and take your chances with bandits and thieves! Or continue to follow and grow stronger!"

The orcs shuffled nervously, but none stepped forwards to challenge the Warchief, and none moved to leave either. The Warchief took that as his mandate to continue ruling and hefted his axe before turning around and looking over the passage that lead deeper into the temple.

Magnus and the Old One-Eyed orc came up to him as the others took the chance to catch their breath and treat their wounds. Magnus spoke in a whisper.

"What do we do now?"

"I don't know." The Warchief stated bluntly.

"You do not?"

"No. I do not know this place. How could I know if any of these passages lead to a way out? Even if it did, it's just as likely that those bandits have them trapped or guarded. We are trapped here." The Warchief admitted.

"Not quite so." The old shaman stated and gestured down the passage. Where they heard a noise.

"What is that?" Magnus asked.

"Sounds like talking." The Warchief said.

"It seems the former master of this temple is not quite departed." The shaman stated and began to move down the passage.

The Warchief turned towards the others and called for them to move forwards. With Magnus being the unofficial leader of the thralls and leading them down the passage as well. As they went deeper, the sound of breathing grew louder and louder. The piles of fine sand also grew. But where it came from Magnus wasn't sure. It wasn't the same sand as outside, so where did it come from and how did it get here?

They paused as a voice called from beyond a set of stone doors.

"You can not leave Mathelusa! *cough cough* It will set into motion a chain of events that will damn us all!"

They waited for the voices to stop, but found only the one voice speaking as it seemed to be having a one-sided conversation.

"It will not end well for you Mathelusa! We will *cough hack* die faster should you depart! Our fates will not change for the better!"

Then like something changed the voice seemed to be directed at them.

"Oh, they have arrived. *cough cough* Come in Lorgash and Magnus."

The Warchief and Magnus looked at one another before pushing open the sandstone doors. Revealing the inside of the large dome, and its occupant. An Elder Dragon, Magnus thought as he starred up at the dragon. It's scales were a lustrous bronze. It's wings were tucked to its side but appeared to span the length of several galleons by Magnus' estimates and its bronzed head was adorned with a crown of horns. But its eyes were a milky white.

The Elder Dragon greeted them in a ancient and wizened voice interrupted occasionally by a sickly cough.

"Greetings Duke *hack cough* Magnus of Daele! And Lorgash *cough cough* of the orcs!"

"Who are you elder dragon?" Magnus asked in awe.

"Why, I am Sytrix! *cough hack* Keeper of Records and *cough cough* steward of the sands! Or I was. Or I will be?" The dragon boomed in a confused tone.

"You do not know?" Magnus called out.

"I *hack cough* used to. My fate has always been hidden from me. But the flows of time have muddied as of late. It is *hack hack* difficult for me to tell what was, is, and will be." The dragon explained before jerking its head to the right and seemed to stare at something.

"No! That will not do! *hack cough* Any inconsistency will not be tolerated!" The dragon roared and swiped at nothing before descending into a coughing fit that speckled the sandstone in flecks of draconic blood.

"Stupid kobolds! So clumsy!" The dragon continued after a moment before seeming to forget where it was.

"Sytrix?" Magnus called out as the Warchief and the shaman made their way around the large chamber.

"Hmm? Oh Magnus of Daele! You should not be here yet." Sytrix said before yet more coughing overtook it.

"What do you mean?"

"You should be back in Daele! Or perhaps out on the water? No, no. You should be Elsewhere, *cough cough* or was it Nowhere? You need to be somewhere. Or in Somewhere... I think?" The confused dragon continued.

"What do you mean? You do not make sense!" Magnus called out as the orcs explored while keeping a cautious eye on the dragon.

"Do not *cough hack* lecture me Agren! Your own malice for the mortals will *hack hack* lead to your own undoing!" The dragon said harshly as its head snapped around to a spot away from Magnus.

"Great Dragon Sytrix! What is it you speak of?!" Magnus called out.

"Magnus of Daele? But if you're here that means *cough cough* ...oh dear." The dragon said.

"What? What does that mean?!"

"That means the time nears. A crashing of worlds, a bloody toll, and yet a brighter future. But not without so much pain and death." The dragon continued cryptically followed by a worsened cough.

"Are you alright?!" Magnus called out as more orcs began to file in.

"I do not know. My fate has ever been blind to me. Funny thing that. I can see the past, present, and future. Except for my own place within it all. *cough hack cough* But I will-" The dragon started before its milky eyes snapped towards a pair of orcs.

"I KNOW IT IS YOU THAT HAS DONE THIS *hack hack cough* THIEVES AND BANDITS! AGREN WAS RIGHT! WE SHOULD *cough hack* HAVE SLAUGHTERED THE LOT OF YOU WHEN YOU WERE STILL CRAWLING FROM YOUR POOLS!" The dragon roared and inhaled deeply before breathing some kind of glowing sand towards the two orcs.

Magnus and the others watched as the orcs aged rapidly before their eyes! One moment they were there, and the next they were nothing but skin and bones, before nothing remained of them except for piles of dust and sand. The dragon hacked and coughed up blood after its breath attack. But the other orcs weren't about to let it have a chance for another.

The Warchief rushed the dragon as it hacked and coughed. As did the other orcs as they swarmed the ancient beast with their small numbers. The dragon, however, didn't seem to notice and turned towards where Magnus stood.

"Let this be my final kindness to mortals, Magnus of Daele. Your time upon our world will not see a return of this season. And beware. Beware the one that smiles and sees himself as another."

"What does-" Magnus started before an orcish axe bite deeply into the dragon's neck.

Draconic blood poured forth from the wound. The dragon choked and howled as it fell to the side. It's claws making weak swipes at the orcs that easily dodged them. The dragon wheezed and choked up yet more blood. Wheezing out the last of its breath it spoke.

"Ah. I can see it now. So this was how it was supposed to end. Beware Lorgash of the orcs, beware the gods of other worlds. For they are cruel and monstrous indeed. Farewell Magnus of Daele."

With those words, the elder dragon let out a last ragged breath before falling silent. Magnus starred at the beast that was near myth and legend. In some places regarded more as that of stories than reality. Yet in the span of a few minutes he had conversed with one, and seen it die.

"How did it die so easily? Stories say that they can destroy whole cities with little issue!" Magnus said as the orcs took trophies or explored.

He heard a crack of a pot and turned to where the shaman had broken open a pot that contained fresh food. The shaman grunted.

"So Orkes' Sacrifice leaves the plains."

"What does that mean?" Magnus asked as he came up to the shaman as the others continued to explore and loot.

The shaman pointed his walking stick towards some flecks of black among the bits of bread and meats.

"Is that not just spice?"

"Not the spice you are familiar with. That is Gordon Root. It is toxic and will kill you quickly and painfully if you even touch it." The shaman said as Magnus bent down to pick through the remains before backing away at the orc's words.

"What is it doing here?"

The orc gestured to the elder dragon.

"Continuing Orkes' legacy it would seem."

"How so?"

The shaman grunted.

"A story for another time. A time we may yet see if the dragon's words are true, as are the glyphs around us."

Magnus looked around and beheld a vast story engraved across the dome of the temple. It seemed to depict everything. From when their world was young and the elements raged and warred, to the rise of the elder dragons and their gifts from the gods, to the coming of the elves and dwarves, then man and other mortal races. He followed along, even seeing a familiar depiction of Daele. So detailed it seemed it was Daele preserved in stone.

He turned his gaze to the top of the dome, where he saw the depictions of the various elder dragons. They were engraved in just as perfect detail that it seemed that Sytrix had risen to lay upon the stone above them. Around the dragons were smaller draconic figures that Magnus could tell at a glance were kobolds. Some dragons had several dozens. Others had only a small handful. Several of the pantheon of dragons had claw marks raked over them. They did not look accidental or from combat, but purposeful. Perhaps they perished, Magnus thought as he looked at the depictions. Then he noticed some cruder ones of the small kobolds, all different sizes and shapes, as they marched on some sort of tree that appeared to be on fire.

The only ones that didn't seem to fit that pattern was the depiction of Sytrix. Which given the dragon's words wasn't a surprise. But another dragon that Magnus didn't recognize that was holding the glyph for magic with scribbling around it that seemed to imply that the dragon did not know the fate of this one.

"So what now?" An orc called out after kicking over several pots and finding yet more old food.

"Find a passage that leads out." The Warchief declared.

"There ARE no other passages! None that we can fit through anyway!" The orc retorted.

Words became heated and tense as it was becoming more and more obvious that they were trapped within. As Magnus watched and grew worried he felt a tugging on the hem of his shirt. He waved a hand at what he assumed was the slave girl.

"Not now."

The tugging continued despite his words though, with a sigh he turned towards the slave girl. Only to find her standing a few feet away, and had both her hands to her sides as she starred just next to Magnus. The former duke turned his head and looked down. Where he found a kobold.

The kobold was squat and had small spikes along its sandstone colored scales along with a stubby snout. It reminded Magnus of the spiny lizards they would see lounging on rocks during their trek here. It looked up at Magnus with eyes the color of sand. Every time it moved, its scales would flake as grains of what seemed to be sand fell from them. It had a crown of small horns along the back of its reptilian head. It tugged Magnus' shirt once more.

"Yes?" Magnus asked, unsure and uneasy at the proximity of the kobold.

"Follow." The kobold declared in a raspy voice and gestured towards a passage.

"We can not." Magnus declared and gestured to the difference in height.

"Follow." The kobold insisted and darted off towards the passage.

Magnus sighed. Not like they had anything else to do, he thought as he followed. It wasn't until he got closer did he realize that the passage was actually bigger than it had first appeared! He looked at the passage and held his eyes as he backed away, watching as the passage seemed to shrink as he stepped back, and grow as he got closer.

"Well I'll be." Magnus said before calling for the orcs' attention.

"We can leave through here!"

"It's too small human! Are you blind?!" One of the orcs said heatedly.

Magnus rolled his eyes and scoffed before following after the kobold into the passage before turning around and gesturing towards the orcs. They all looked at one another before following after him. Once it was proven that he wasn't tricking them, the rest followed after as they all followed the little sandstone kobold.

"Where is it leading us?" The Warchief asked.

"I do not know. It just said to follow it." Magnus stated.

"It could be another trap."

"We do not really have any better courses now do we?" Magnus said and continued to follow the kobold in silence.

Eventually the kobold led them to a blank wall. Until it ran between several of the surrounding walls and pressed against several bricks. With the press of the last brick, the wall rumbled to the side. Revealing a dark tunnel that lead down into the ground.

The kobold turned towards them.

"Follow. Do not listen to the Golden Song."

"Great, it's as mad as its master." Magnus heard one of the orcs say as they followed the kobold.

The kobold lit a torch and lead them deep into the ground. At first it was just more of the sandstone passages as above, but eventually it gave way to rough rock and stone. The kobold became more uneasy as they traversed the darkness. Magnus and the others soon found out why when some of the orcs began to wander down a side passage.

"Where are you going?" The Warchief demanded.

But the orcs didn't seem to hear him and continued down the passage. The clinking and shuffle of their equipment being the only thing they heard of them before even that abruptly stopped soon after entering the dark passage. The kobold shook its head.

"Do not listen to the Golden Song. It leads to a sweet death."

"Golden Song?" Magnus asked.

But the kobold didn't elaborate and continued on. Keeping an eye on the surrounding passages as it did so. After that, they kept an eye on the rest of them. Whenever a group of orcs or thralls, or even members of the Warchief's warbrides would begin to wander off, they would be stopped before they could wander down a tunnel. When they finally came to they made mention of a buzzing sound that came from below that made them so happy that they wanted to follow it.

The kobold continued to mention this "Golden Song". It wasn't until he himself awoke in the arms of the slave girl that he started to truly worry.

"What happened?"

"You started to wander off, Duke Magnus. If not for that slave girl you would've been gone before we could even tell you had left." The Warchief stated.

The slave girl nodded her head and took out their waterskin and held it up to Magnus to drink from. Magnus was tempted to refuse, but sighed and made to take a sip of the water. Until the little sandstone kobold rushed over and smacked away the precious water!

"What was that for?!"

"Do not heed the Golden Song!" The kobold hissed and kicked sand onto the water.

"What does that mean?!" Magnus yelled before a sweet smell filled his nose.

He picked up the waterskin and smelled it before turning to the slave girl.

"Was this water from those water ants?"

The slave girl nodded. Magnus turned towards the others.

"Who all has water from the ants?"

Some of the orcs and thralls called out. All of whom had nearly wandered off down the tunnels.

"But why did it not affect us above ground?"

"Sand muffles song. Keeps the sweet death below and hidden." The kobold said simply before turning around and continuing on.

"Hmm, maybe those lizardfolk were on to something." The shaman quipped as they continued to follow the kobold.

On and on they went. Pausing occasionally for a break, but what was left of the sweet water was discarded as it was more and more obvious that those that drank it were more likely to wander off down the tunnels. They were growing tired, and thirst as they drained what was left of the water not from the water ants. The others were beginning to grumble. Some wanted to go down a tunnel in the hopes it would lead out eventually. But few went when it was agreed that them staying together was more safe.

Then came light. Not the light of the torch that the kobold held. But what appeared to be sunlight! They all took the chance and ran towards the source. They reached a set of roughly hewn stone stairs and climbed up them with equal parts caution and eagerness. Magnus and the others finally managed to push past the meager forces they still had left and starred around.

They were above ground. But they were no longer in the desert. It appeared they had somehow arrived in the badlands at the border of the desert that they travelled through weeks ago. One of the orcs called out.

"Look!"

They all followed to where he pointed and could see a structure in the distance. The structure was of obvious orc make. At the sign of familiarity, the orcs rushed forwards. Eager to return to familiar territory and receive fresh food, water, and shelter from the sun and heat. Magnus turned around and gazed back down the tunnel.

"How did we travel so far seemingly so fast?"

He had thought to ask the sandstone kobold, but it had disappeared during the rush and the only thing to tell it had been there at all were the small mounds of sand that flecked off its scales and the remnants of the torch that still sputtered and burned.

"I don't know. But I'm glad to be rid of that desert." The Warchief declared and followed after his forces towards the orcish outpost.

"Do you know?" Magnus asked the shaman.

"No. But draconic magic is old and strange even to those that spend their lives to study it. Who knows what the elder dragon or those kobolds did to allow us to travel so far."

"So what was it all for? You said we had to go there to find a way to another world but we did not get anything."

"While you were talking to the dragon, we managed to acquire what we were looking for." The shaman stated and produced a coal etching from a satchel.

Upon it was a depiction of orcs and monsters and all manner of races, and before them was an array of what appeared to be rifts with a circle of people kneeling upon sigils before the rifts.

"What is that?"

"The way to another world." The shaman declared before following the others.

Magnus looked worryingly towards the orcs then towards the slave girl that continued to follow him.

"I suppose you can go now. I'm not sure how hospitable the badlands will be, but you are free to try your luck there rather than in the desert or with us."

The cat woman looked to where he pointed and then back at Magnus. She took several steps closer to him until she was right next to him that he could feel her breath on him. He sighed before heading after the orcs. He offered. But it would seem that the slave girl had chosen her fate. So began their trek towards civilization and the end of their journey in the Sea of Sand.