The broad expanse of the desert wastelands, of broken stones upon sun-baked earth, spread out before Ishkinil and Heshberu as they climbed up a rocky slope. Loose scree littered the slopes, threatening to shift and slide at any moment, yet through it all a path could be seen, winding ever up, to where a cave entrance could be seen.

The desert lands were stark and desolate, and yet they had a beauty to them, the rich red of the earth highlighted by swirls of other colours within, of creams and yellows, of browns and purples. Nothing could live there, not beneath the glare of the crimson sun, with its extreme heat and lack of water or shelter, but it had a primal magnificence to it. Little did it care for the works of man, for it had existed long before them and would endure long after.

Heshberu led the way to the entrance to the cave in the side of the ridge, one around which the stone had been daubed with white, red and yellow paints, forming elaborate geometric swirls, images of trees and men and beasts.

There Heshberu stopped, hesitant. “He lives within,” told Ishkinil, “Though ever is he out walking the lands. It may be that he is not here now.”

A voice came from within the cave, strong and commanding. “This day I am.”

Heshberu's eyes widened and he shrunk back behind Ishkinil. The raven on her shoulder shifted and half spread its wings.

From the depths of the cave a man emerged, tall and wild, a long, gnarled staff in hand. Taller even than Ishkinil he stood, as solid and enduring as the earth. Once dark hair was now mostly grey and hung loose to his shoulders. Likewise was his beard thick and full, and neither had he oiled or curled or braided it as was the way of the men of the cities. He wore but a simple robe of rough linen, with a rope for a belt and sandals on his feet. No ornamentation or decoration could be seen upon him. Dark piercing eyes studied them from above a sharp nose, his face hard and weathered and stern. Of Heshberu he paid little heed, instead his focus being upon Ishkinil. The two stood there, eyes locked as they sized up the other. There was no noise but for the softest of winds in the air, one that barely stirred the ever present heat that hung harsh upon the land. Stones could have withered and shattered between the gaze, their faces hard and reflection no indications of their thoughts.

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It was Ishkinil who spoke first. “You are the enku?”

“I am,” the man replied. “Amuzad I am, who watches these lands, enku of a land in turmoil. You I know, Ishkinil, the Handmaiden of Death.” As each spoke, their words were short, clipped, giving little away.

“It is so.”

“Your master I am not yet ready to meet.”

“I am not here for you,” she told him. Amuzad twitched a brow at that, the faintest of impressions of a reaction.

“Then what brings you here?”

“A darkness hovers over the waters,’ Ishkinil told him, the two still with unbroken stares upon each other, “And a sickly death is within, yet not one of Enkurgil’s design, for it is a death of madness and agony.”

Amuzad leant against his staff. A simple nod of his head followed. “The lands of Arkech Usor cry out in pain to me. Their pain is my pain and yet its source remains clouded from me. If it were a natural blight I could have cleansed it. This defies me. It spreads and grows more virulent still. Not of natural origins does it come. What care you, though, who walks with death within?”

“All come to Enkurgil, in time, yet he wished not for them to come before their time, nor means unnatural. If I can so do then I will stand opposed to those who would prey upon others, to bring death early and unrequired. Those are my foes.”

Another pause followed, with no words spoken, before at last Amuzad spoke once more.

“It would appear that I have misjudged you, Ishkinil of Athan Arach.”

“Many do.”

“Come,” he said, “We will sit and talk, for I would not have these lands die, and if you are willing to aid me then perhaps we can end this blight together.” Thus saying, he turned and headed into the cave. Motioning to Hesberu to follow, Ishkinil strode in after the tall enku, to discover what she could of the land and its torments.