In most maps of Ostior, the Eivettä was where the sketches ended. No one, not even those who chose to brave the hostile environment, could say for certain how large the desert truly was. Some suggest it could be as large or larger than the entirety of Ostior. North of the Thorne there are no rivers, streams, or oases. There are no beasts to hunt. There are no caves to shelter from the rays of the sun. It would be a land of the dead if there was anything to die.

The healer and the mercenary continued northward, riding their beasts of burden side-by-side. The desert was unlike anything Appo imagined. He saw only cracked sand and stone, nothing like the dunes he had read about in parchments. Away from the ever so slightly cooling breeze of the Thorne, the air was even hotter and dryer. It tasted like sand, and it seemed to coat Appo’s lungs as he inhaled. The sensation was sticky and uncomfortable. He had heard stories from those who traveled far west to the Fincur mountains; how the air seemed too thin, and how a breath of fresh air could feel like water for those who had gone moons without. Appo had never been there, but a breath of frigid air never sounded more appealing.

He decided to talk to pass the time. “Where do you hail from, mercenary?”

Jere spat and said nothing. Appo was envious; he wished he had the moisture to spit.

“Do you come from the savannas? The steppe?”

“I’m from the south. The far south.”

The south?! Appo doubted it. People in Ostior rarely traveled, and even the most ambitious of traders rarely detoured away from the Loam Road. Those who were well-traveled were typically those of great strength, and those who did not have the strength typically weren’t alive to tell the tales. More likely than not, whatever Jere was about to say would be nothing more than stories.

“What brings a southerner to the Eivettä? The one thing I know for sure about southerners is that they don’t like to travel.”

Jere looked onward. “I don’t.”

Appo subconsciously followed his lead and turned forward. “This man certainly seems to have the attitude of a southerner, for sure,” he thought.

“The weather is too cold and the beasts are too big.” Jere continued. “I won’t bore you, healer. You likely wouldn’t believe me anyway.” Appo was again irked by this man’s ability to predict where his thoughts led.

“It seems as if the only thing trying to kill us here is the sun,” Appo said.

“Yep.”

Suddenly, Appo became aware of how dry his mouth was. He hadn’t drunk since he had met Jere, and he had forgotten to rehydrate at the river. He also was a little too stubborn to admit to this ruffian that he was running low on water.

Jere tossed Appo a small root that was barely caught. “Dried figweed,” Jere said, “chew and suck on the water. It’ll give you something to do other than die of sunstroke.”

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“He did it again. Bastard.”

For as judgmental as Appo was internally, outwardly he simply thanked Jere and began sucking on the Figweed. Sure enough, he found his mouth becoming wet again. Without a second thought, he muttered a light prayer before chewing on the root.

“That name you just said, I don’t recognize it,” Jere said. Appo looked at his companion. Jere’s eyes never wavered from his forward gaze.

“Lowya. She’s the patron of Healers. You could say she’s who I worship,” Appo pulled out a pendant – a pair of crisscrossed zig-zagging lines – from around his neck.

“Strange name… Don’t pray so openly. Ashfolk won’t take kindly to healers praising gods they don’t recognize.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Appo replied.

“You better hope your god is the god of coin, or the god of whores.” Jere chuckled.

Appo was conflicted. He knew his god was far more reviled than praised, especially to those who were aware of her. Still, Appo’s policy was honesty more than anything else, and couldn’t help himself. “Lowya is the Goddess of Pestilence.”

Jere spat again. “Pestilence? Like… disease? You’re going to be murdered.”

Appo, his mouth rejuvenated, likewise spit in response. “Men of my profession see disease all the time. Disease is a horrible thing, and I concluded that if there were any gods out there that should be my ally, it would be one who I come in contact with on a regular basis. The goddess of death has her hands full, and the gods of thunder and sand are of little use to me.”

“I don’t think gods appreciate that. You can’t be logical. You have to choose what is right.”

“Can I not do both?”

“The goddess of pestilence will do little to protect you from the sun and beasts, ignoramus.”

The two rode in silence for a moment. “What do you mean beasts, Jere?” Appo said. “I thought you said it was too hot for anything to survive in the desert.”

Jere’s expression turned sour. “Perhaps above the ground. Below the ground, however…” Appo was shocked, afraid of what would make this strong and stoic bully hesitate. “Below the ground, the land is cooler… Below the ground are the worms.”

There was a brief pause. Appo chuckled briefly, before bursting into laughter. Jere turned with rage to his companion.

“What?! What’s so funny?”

Appo regained his composure. “Ah yes, the Eivettän Death Worms, I’ve heard of them.”

“And you mock them?”

“Because, my dear mercenary friend, they don’t exist.”

Jere lost control of his camel for a moment before readjusting. “They certainly do! That’s why traders keep to the trail. That’s why the dunes shift. They devour men and digest their bones into gemstones.”

“Have you ever seen one of these worms? Is that where the gemstones come from? Might as well shit petrified wood as well.”

Jere frowned. “Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I’ve seen enough from my travels to not discount the threats of the traders.”

Appo laughed again. “Jere, the Death Worm was created by them. Keeps people from diverting from the trails they set up. It’s a trick. I’ve met with patients ‘suffering’ from Death Worm bites. Every time, it’s a snake bite. There are many things to be afraid of in this world, and the Death Worm is not one of them.”

“The worms are more real to me than your god, healer,” Jere spoke under a petty veil of embarrassment.

Appo didn’t want to come off as condescending, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t seen much of the world, but he knew what he knew to the best of his ability. Still, he didn’t know everything, and this mercenary had supposedly seen far more of the world than he had. He decided to let the matter die.

“We’re close. Look in the distance.”

Across the horizon, Appo could make out the outlines of short stone buildings behind a wall. He could make out some commotion. The sun made his vision hazy, but he knew what was to come. Ash was in view.