Chapter Five: Lost in the Desert

By silent agreement, no questions were asked until the party returned to the camp site. The sun had started climbing high in the sky by the time they had trudged back to the rocky outcrop. After passing back between the narrow gap in the rocks and travelling down to the oasis, their hearts sank. All the tents had gone and there was no sign of the caravan.

All the tents except the party’s that was. An instant later they spied Ark sitting in the shade of the open entrance, calmly sharpening his swords on a wet stone. “Ahh! The wanderers return,” he stated slyly. “And what a sight you are. What did you do, take on the very gods themselves?”

“"Very nearly, I think. Or at least something not of this earth." Malthus said while walking into the tent with a shake of his head. He was still unnerved at all that he had seen, and collapsed onto his sleeping pallet without asking any questions.

Cronwyn looked amused by Malthus’ response, but was less pleased as he gazed around the oasis. “Where did the caravan go?” he asked.

"It left just before dawn." Ark indicated with a sweeping movement to the west where one of the shear cliffs of the gully stopped them seeing any further. “They gave you up for dead, or gone. Me, I had more faith than that in my friends." He gave a rare smile at Kris and Shayam. "I saw to it that none of your stuff was touched, and believe me, that was no easy feat. By the looks of you we had better remain here for another day or two?”

Cronwyn nodded, and Malthus snores gave his vote. “The caravan and our party were going to go our separate ways soon anyway. From this point we head north while they will continue west.”

Now Kris ceased the opportunity to speak. “I think this is the best time for an explanation, don’t you?” His face made it clear that no was not an answer. “Let us grab our breakfast and a seat. Then you can tell us all at once what is going on here.”

Cronwyn sighed again, but it was clear he agreed. The merchant looked at Turadyl. “You should tell them. You were there at the start.” Turadyl nodded, and began his story. It took almost an hour to explain what had happened right from the beginning. The elf spoke of Malthus’ vision, the map and their quest to reach the ‘Temple of Death’. He left nothing out. By the end of it, Shayam and Kris were nodding their heads.

“Yes, yes. Finally we have met somebody who is doing something about this ‘Master’.” Said Kris . “We would be honoured to travel with you and put an end to this fiend.” Shayam was also moved, “You can count me in till the end. I want to protect my homeland as much as the next man.”

Turadyl smiled. “We would be glad to have you along.” He turned to Ark and said a few words in elvan. Although nobody else understood, they knew it meant something like, “And you?”

Ark was quick in answering. He chose to put his words into the elvan tongue. “I would also like to come. Not to protect our homeland, because I believe that is safe. And not to defend their beloved republic, because I don’t care about that. I will come for the adventure and for the killing.” The feral elf gave Turadyl a smile and a wink. Turadyl answered in Thyatian. “In any case, we will be glad to have you with us.” In his heart Turadyl knew they could count on his untamed cousin.

“Ahem.” The noise was Leeham clearing his throat. He had been enraptured during the story and therefore remained quite quiet. “Gentle... Err, Sir Turadyl, I must beg a favour. From what I have just heard, you tell us that you are battling a fierce enemy. I am alone in these harsh lands, and a lone Hin can do little against the armies that are threatening the Republic and most surely the Shires. I would be honoured if you would let me join you.”

Looking visibly uncomfortable, Turadyl replied, "No problem for me, though I can't speak for everyone. I certainly wouldn't leave anyone alone in the desert to fend for himself.” Turadyl turned his back on the halfling and wondered why some of these people have started treating him like some kind of leader.

Shayam stood up and gathered the Hin’s short sword from where it had been stashed in Kris’ pack. “You will need these my young friend.” The Halfling positively beamed. Shayam smiled back at him, “You deserve it, you have proved yourself against that moving statue in the temple.” Kris also agreed. “Welcome along,” he said.

“And that just leaves him,” said Cronwyn with his face looking thoughtful. He was staring at the slow witted water boy, Ghitu. No-one had given him a second thought either, but since the young Sindian had followed them out into the desert he had been left behind by the caravan. They couldn’t leave him here to die, but he would be absolutely no use on the road ahead. Ghitu grinned at him, his dirt smeared face revealing no sign that he could guess what Cronwyn was thinking about. The dark skinned idiot stammered out the Sindian word for work, and then rushed off to look after the camels for them. This was his favourite job after plying them with water.

“He will have to come with us,” said Kris with a worried look on his face. “I hope he can survive the hardships ahead.”

Cronwyn sighed. “Unfortunately he has no real choice. We will have to do the best with him that we can.”

The party spent the next few days resting after their ordeal, recovering from their injuries and restudying spells. Turadyl spent some of the first day searching for a decent blade among the litter left by previous caravans. He disturbed many desert rats, but didn’t find a decent weapon. Malthus turned up later in the day with the solution. He reverently unwrapped a sword in a soft cloth. It had been Rodrick’s, and it had been the priest’s idea to carry it with them then return it to the warrior’s family in Selenica. He thought Rodrick would understand the need. “Thankyou, I will take good care of it,” said the elf. “Do you remember what word Rodrick spoke into it to make it flame?”

“I am sorry my friend, he never felt the need to tell me.” replied the cleric. But the blade was still a good replacement for the one Turadyl lost. The elf set about familiarising himself with it.

Kris took the opportunity to tell Ark about the party’s night adventure, exaggerating intrepid deeds and underlining many times how much his aid could have been welcome, if he just didn’t love sleeping so much. He stopped only when he saw that he was bothering the stern elf.

Cronwyn got lost in the scrolls he recovered from the temple. "This is fascinating", he remarked after spending a whole day deciphering them. "It seems that the temple was built around a gateway for evil, to stop its entry into this world. A very powerful creature, half man, half scorpion, was set up to guard the opening protecting the world and soon a cult grew that worshipped him. His only weakness was a small steel pin which will could kill him instantly! Buzzard man must have been studying the site to unlock those evil powers. Seems we woke the guardian and he took necessary remedial action for his absence."

At this point Kris put his hand in a pocket and pulled out the ancient metal pin. "So I actually did a good thing by pulling it out.” He smiled. “It was all part of my complex plan.”

“But I forgot Kris,” said Cronwyn cheekily. “You always have a plan.”

Kris laughed out loud. “That’s right. And now my plan is to take this with me and remember to bury it somewhere very far from here.” He chuckled to himself. He had been guilty about putting the party at risk, but thinks had worked out well in the end.

Cronwyn returned to his reading. Shayam studied the encoded messages found on the table, but eventually had to give up in disgust. “There’s nothing here to work with,” he told the merchant. “The notes are more charcoal now than letters.” Cronwyn definitely agreed.

Ghitu passed his days around the tent by cooking and cleaning and generally making himself useful. He seemed to have taken a liking to the trader and continually poked his head over Cronwyn’s shoulder to give his suggestion on how to read the ancient Sindhi script. Cronwyn found his help very frustrating, especially since the boy was illiterate, and eventually sent him out to look after the camels.

Ark spent entire days practicing his sword-work. Malthus’ depression from Rodrick’s death seemed to lift a bit. After three days everyone was refreshed enough to begin again. A group meeting was held to decide what to do next.

“So what now?” said Ark. “That map that you went floundering out into the desert to retrieve is no help on where to go next. It doesn’t even start till hundreds of miles away.”

“Well,” said Cronwyn screwing up his face. “We know that the great pass is somewhere to the north-west of here. Across the plain of fire.”

“Plain of fire?” asked Kris. “Is it even hotter than this cursed desert?”

“I have never been there,” said Cronwyn. “But they say that you are able to fry eggs on the ground and water poured out of a water-skin will disappear before it hits the ground.”

“At least it might make it easy for you to cook Kris,” quipped Malthus. “You are no replacement for Alexander thus far.” Since Meltar and his apprentice had left the party, the cooking duties had been shared evenly among all of them when Ghitu was busy with the animals.

“I would like to meet this Alexander one day,” said Shayam. “His cooking must be good for you to keep going on about it like this.”

“Please!” interrupted Ark. “We have to decide where to go from here. Cronwyn, you are the only one of us who has been in these parts before. What way do we go?”

Cronwyn replied quickly. “We will head north-north-west until we reach the Black Mountains. Then we will head west along them until we bump into the Great Pass.”

“It is not much of a plan,” Turadyl moaned. “But we may be able to find people to guide us in our travels. Surely not everyone in this desert is under the heel of this ‘Master’ yet.”

The party left the gully that had protected them for so long with some sadness. Their water-skins were full and they were feeling rested as they left at dawn and walked north-west with their backs to the hot sun. Leeham was the last to look back and see the high walls of the cliffs disappear in a shimmer of heat haze. He wondered if he would be lucky enough to ever see it again.

The next two weeks saw the party become adjusted to desert travel. They rose before dawn and travel until the sun made it too hot to move. Then they gathered under the cover of their half constructed tent and shared their big meal of the day. Malthus revealed another talent. At noon he would mutter a few words to Halav and several loaves and some water would appear. The food was not much for eight of them, but it supplemented their iron rations well. It became clear that water was going to be more of an issue. Under Turadyl’s advice they were rationed down to two cups a day, and never walked when the sun was hot.

After lunch they would sleep or lounge around for several hours, rising when the sun was falling from the sky. Then they walk on and on by Cronwyn’s urging until it was pitch black and they had to put the tent up with the light of torches. It was an exhausting lifestyle that was interrupted on the fifteenth day.

In the early morning of that day the party were riding through a narrow draw. The desert was becoming uncomfortably hot even only a few hours after dawn, and the group were thinking about resting in the shade of the gully walls for a few hours. As they round a bend they come face to face with a man on foot, standing in the shade of a rock. He was dressed in the flowing robes of the desert people and had a curved sword at his hip. He continued to stand and watch the party. As they got closer he held up his sword up above his head and in exaggerated movements laid it by his side.

Turadyl called the others to a halt for a moment so they could discuss what to do out of the man's earshot.

Malthus eyed the new comer and keeps a close watch. "Ummm, Cronwyn," the old priest asked the trader quietly, "What does that mean?"

Cronwyn spoke. "He is one of the nomadic people that wander the desert. He is telling us that he is not hostile and wishes to speak."

"I agree it’s a distinct sign of peaceful intentions," said the elf. "Still, we can't be too careful." He scanned the slopes on either side for signs of an ambush.

Shayam saw the elf’s eyes and checked that his bow and sword were within easy reach. "I’ll watch above," he said loudly enough to be heard by those near him. "I'll stay here at the rear why some of you go talk to him." Turning to Leeham he asked, "Will you join me Sir? I could use another pair of sharp eyes." He wanted the Halfling somewhere that he could keep an eye on him.

The Hin smiled at Shayam "But of courrrse, good sirrr!" He said in an exaggerated courtly accent. Leeham dismounted from his camel and readied his sling.

"One of us should go ahead unarmed and speak with him," Turadyl said.

"We can both go Turadyl," Kris answered.

Turadyl didn’t remember volunteering, but went anyway.

The pair cautiously approached the stranger. "Hail", called the man in Thyatian with a distinctly Sind dialect. Turadyl answered back and queries who the man was. "A traveller", he answers, "Are you of the true faith?"

Turadyl was confused. "I believe myself to be, yes." He answered. "But I also believe that one's actions speak louder than one's words. Would you give us the honour of sharing a meal with us?" The elf gestured back to the rest of the group. "The coolness of the shade makes it an ideal place to rest."

Kris looked amused at the elf's diplomacy.

The man looked puzzled at the elf's answer. "You are not sure whether you follow the path of order and law or the path of evil and chaos?" He asked looking a little concerned.

"I am sorry if I sounded ambiguous," replied Turadyl. "I most certainly do not follow the path of evil and chaos. As a member of Clan Feadiel I stand for that which is good and righteous. As to law, that is also the direction I follow, as only through order can peace be achieved. However, I have travelled to many lands, and I know that some 'laws' are naught but excuses for wicked rulers to abuse their subjects. That is why I say 'I believe myself to be of the true faith', as I know others who would twist the meaning of 'true faith' to their own ends. As to my companions," the elf gestured to include the whole group, "I know we are all united in our efforts to defeat one who is responsible for much evil."

Kris struggled to follow Turadyl’s argument, and wondered how much this traveller was understanding.

"Hmmm." The traveller mussed over the answer, obviously not sure of the group. He did not seem too worried by them however, and accepted the offer of food and water. He walked back to the rest of the party with Kris and Turadyl and asked another question. “By what sign are you led?”

Turadyl had no idea about how to answer this question. But the man did not seem to be hostile, so he replied "I follow the sign of Ilsundal, though others among us do not. We are bound by a common belief in good, rather than a common religion."

Malthus heard this last question and seemed agitated, almost as if he were biting his tongue. Unlike Turadyl he had a very clear sign by which he lived under. He wondered if it would be a good idea to reveal the hammer tattooed to his chest, the holy system by which he lived by.

Ghitu, had watched the stranger from behind Malthus. As soon as he saw that the man was going to join them for a meal he broke out some food from the packs and started laying it out. He jabbered to himself under his breath and kept casting glances at the stranger and the surrounding rocks. Cronwyn watched this with a bad feeling beginning to grow in his stomach. He almost pulled the slow-witted boy back when Ghitu stepped forward to great the stranger.

The tan Sindian boy stepped forward and bowed deeply. He made the Sindian sign of greeting appropriate to a high caste visitor over and over again. The solemnity of this greeting would have been more impressive if not for the running monologue of garbled Sindian going on under his breath and the childish grin on his face. The grin spread as he slowly turned full circle and continued to make peaceful gestures. He seemed to be sending out a welcome to specific points in the hills and scrub land surrounding the group.

Both Shayam and Cronwyn stared out at the hills. Was this young boy totally mad? Then thief’s eyes picked out a nearby patch of scrub Ghitu had spoken to. It moved.

“It’s a trap!” Screamed Shayam at the top of his lungs. As though from some un-spoken signal forty bowman suddenly appeared in the surrounding rocks and trees. Shayam leapt off his camel with the intention of using it for cover but they were on all sides. Ark had responded almost as quickly and had an arrow nocked although he stayed on his mount. The party watched with horror as more and more bowman appeared from the rocky cover. “This is going to be messy,” said Kris through gritted teeth. He held his bow close so that he could speak the command word for his haste spell in an instant. Ghitu had flung himself behind Cronwyn at the first sign of the archers, and was now shrieking loudly.

The stranger standing next to them did not change the look on his face. He continued to address the elf. "I can not tell which creed nor symbol you live your life by. You must come with me to go before Talel, our leader. If you have good in your heart you have nothing to fear, but as a sign of your peaceful intentions you must surrender your weapons. You will get them back should you prove true in your faith. What is your answer?"

"Our answer?" thought Kris. The pale Karameikan still couldn’t believe how many archers had been hading up there. "Yes, we are honoured to have the chance to meet Talel, I am at least. But I…” Kris speak was cut short by the stranger’s hand being flung in his face. It seemed this desert nomad was waiting for a sign from somewhere.

Malthus looked at the archers without too much surprise. He had expected something like this, though he was surprised at the numbers and their quickness. He knew what he had to do. Walking to the strange man he held his war hammer out in-front of him. "My weapon,” he said solemnly. “This hammer is a symbol of Halav and is the sign I live under. It is also a symbol of the power he grants me. I shall place it in your care, but be warned. Halav himself would strike you down if you chose to interfere with his good work, for we are on a mission of great urgency.”

The man's face took on a serious look as he examined the symbol given to him. The following pause had everyone hanging on edge as everything stood still. Then suddenly he broke into a big smile. His toothy grin was made comical by the black gaps left by missing teeth. "Well why didn't you say so in the first place! A follower of Halav is more than welcome in the camp of Talel. I'm Hardin." He said, clutching his hand to his chest. He handed back the hammer and grabbed the big cleric in a bear hug and waved the other dervishes down from their perches. They withdrew their arrows and slid down the bank whopping loudly. They joined the party and for the next few minutes there was much slapping of backs and shaking of hands. The adventurers stood about, quite confused.

Hardin spoke again. "Come, we must ride from here, the desert is not a safe place anymore and we have not far to go. Perhaps Talel can help you with your quest, he knows many things!" He took the reigns of a camel and started leading them along the gully in the direction they had already been travelling.

Somewhat overwhelmed by the recent turn of events Turadyl was left mute for a moment before muttering. "Certainly, please lead the way." Not sure if the party was still expected to surrender their weapons, he simply followed where Hardin led. Before long, the elf absorbed the situation, and began to think of ways this strange group might able to help them.

As they rode Hardin talked to the party about recent events. He explained that what was left of the Sindian army had joined together with the desert tribes and were fighting a resistance action against the raiders from the north-west. For the rest of the short ride all he could do was rave about the good deeds and heroics of Talel el Hareidhin, who was apparently their leader and some sort of holy man. The high cliff was sheltered them from the worse of the noon sun.

Shayam was quiet during the ride. He listened to Hardin while re-evaluating his own 'hide in shadows' skill. He doubted it was as good out here in the desert as these nomads in their native environment.

Several hours later they rounded a corner and a camp of about hundred men came into view. Hardin escorted them to a lone rider, a large man dressed as the others with a thick beard. He sat on a horse, the first the party had seen in a while, on a dune overlooking the camp. The wind whipped his robes around as he turned to stare at them. Hardin asked them to stay back a few feet while he rode on ahead in private. After a quick discussion with the rider, Hardin motioned for the party to join them and made an introduction. It was Talel el Hareidhin.

"Welcome!" spoke Talel. His voice booming out in a loud but warm tone. "Please forgive me a moment." He broke into incantations that were obviously a form of magic. Malthus quickly recognised the chant as familiar and vaguely similar to his own incantations for the detection of an evil presence. After Talel had satisfied himself he invited the party back to his tent for a meal that evening. With that he dismissed them and the party were shown to a tent and their animals led to a coral nearby. ."Wash up and rest,” suggested Hardin. “We feast to welcome you tonight!" Hardin went to leave but turned back at the last minute. “Talel tells me that he has been dreaming of your coming for several weeks. It is good that you finally arrived.” Without another word Hardin spun and disappeared with his cloak billowing out behind him.

Kris raised his eyebrows. “If I’d known that we were expected I would have more of an effort to arrive on time!” he quipped. Shayam also looked extremely dubious.

The party cleaned and washed themselves, conserving the water as carefully as they could. Ghitu made sure that all their waterbags were refilled just in case.

“What do you think he really meant when he said he had ‘dreamt of our coming’ for several weeks?” Kris asked Malthus.

“It could have been a vision,” answered Malthus. “In times of great need there are those that may be granted a vision so that they will know how to act.”

Shayam was distracted by other things. He spoke with Leeham about the way that the desert riders had managed to ambush them in the desert.

“I wouldn’t have thought it possible,” he said. “I consider myself skilful enough in that area but I didn’t see them until too late. I take it you were surprised too?”

The halfling nodded. “I think they had spent some time to set that position up though, it may be that they plan to use that spot against the master’s forces in the future. They had partially covered themselves with sand and a few of those hardy bushes that grow around here. You could see them fling them to one side when they stood up. It must take a high level of discipline to sit out there in the sun all day though.”

Shayam agreed. “I think we should try to learn what they know before we go. As we go further into enemy territory we will be doing a lot of hiding.”

“That’s what I do best!” said Leeham cheerfully.

Several hours later a feast similar to that held by the camel train before the temple incident was begun. However the food was much better, with lamb, not camel being served. The group, even Ghitu, was treated with respect. The Sindian boy returned the favour by gawking at the partisans with undisguised admiration. He even managed to keep quiet for a while. During the meal Talel explained that he was the religious leader of this group of nomads that wandered the Sind. Recently what was left of the Sultan’s army had also joined. The cleric when on to explain that their religion was not dissimilar to that of Malthus and it appeared they followed the same deity, but by different names. After the meal Talel relaxed with the party. "You are a strange group to be found together!", he exclaimed. "What news do you have from the east?"

“We can tell you little,” said Cronwyn. “We left Pramayama about a month ago, maybe more. At that stage the Karameikan reserves were moving to the north-east to try and retake Sayr Ulan.” Turadyl wondered about the wisdom of telling everything they knew to Talel before being convinced of his loyalty, but it was too late to stop Cronwyn now.

“Rather than going with the main force we headed north up the river on our own mission,” continued Cronwyn. “At that stage there was only Turadyl, Malthus, Rodrick who was killed…” Cronwyn looked sad when mentioning the warrior. “…a mage and myself travelling together. We meet Kris, Shayam, Ark, Leeham and the boy later.” The merchant recounted the story from Pramayama through to the edge of the salt swamp. Then he told Talel about their travels with the caravan. He explained that they left the shelter of the caravan to recover something they needed for their mission.

Talel was interested. “Your mission? And what would that be?”

Cronwyn’s mouth opened and then sealed shut. He realised that he had already said to much and now it was going to be hard to avoid the question with out insulting their host. Even Kris was surprised by how quickly the supposedly diplomatic Darokian had talked himself into a corner.

Talel laughed in a huge bearish way. “Let me guess. Would it have anything to do with a vision. A vision of a creature eating the sun. Then out of the darkness a man appearing who has long white fangs and wild hair. This is the man who you have been searching for, yes?”

Everybody looked stunned except Malthus who nodded, “Now I know that you also have the gift.”

Talel nodded “This man who you have seen, follower of the true faith, is ‘The Master’. He is the one who has bound the monsters and people of many lands together to bring terror on us. He is not a man. I believe he long ago sold whatever humanity he had to gain even more power. I know he must be stopped.”

Talel looked at them all gravely. “The force that was sent north-east to free Sayr Ulan has failed. I know not what happened to it, but it never even made the city walls.”

Turadyl felt sad for a moment, remember Mark and the others in the camp that had been helpful. He wondered if Sarras, their leader, was among the fallen.

Cronwyn looked dismayed but not surprised. He knew that if the Karameikans had failed to release the city, the rest of the Darokin troops caught behind enemy lines would not be having a good time. He hoped that he would be able to help them soon.

Talel was thinking aloud now. “My men are brave…” he looked around the tent where a few of them were enjoying the food. It appeared they couldn’t understand Thyatian and weren’t listening to the conversation with the exception of Hardin. “…but we will eventually fail if something is not done. Every day our lands are flooded with more of the nomads from the desert and other scum.” He spat on the floor for effect. “The nomads have always been a curse on us but now with the orcs, trolls and worse backing them up they are un-stoppable. This Master must be found and removed.”

Kris had remained silent throughout the entire meal and still kept his peace. At least he knew exactly what was going on now. He wondered what his friend Shayam thought about Talel’s revelations.

Malthus sighed inwardly and then decided that they could trust this man. He pulled the hard leather case out from under his shirt and produced the map from inside it. “We are going to ‘remove’ this Master and this is how we are going to do it.”

Talel studied the map intently. “I had not seen this in my premonitions. This is indeed fortunate.”

“It mentions ‘The Great Pass’,” said Turadyl. “Do you now where this is?” he queried.

“MMMmmm the great pass", the desert man mused as he pored over the map. "Offcourse every Sindian learns about that as a child, but there has never been a solid report of anyone finding it and then returning. It is said it is in the mountains on the far side of the Sind desert. The only help I can give you is that you must travel north west from here into the Plain of Fire. You path leads right into the hottest most inhospitable part of the Great Waste. If you are delayed on the Plain you will certainly die, since even if the heat is not enemy enough, they are creatures that can survive out there that are far worse.” He looked at Turadyl. “The creatures out there don’t get much company and are therefore… really hungry.”

“W…what sort of creatures?” stammered Leeham.

Talel shrugged. “Anything from desert trolls, manticores and wyverns to really big things that you probably don’t want to be told about.”

Leeham shook his head woefully. In a way he figured that he would have died anyway if these travellers hadn’t helped him, so each breath he took he owed to them. But he didn’t want his end to be too painful.

Talel continued. “We will outfit you for the desert and give you fresh mounts as yours look a little worse for wear. We will provide you with fresh food and water as well offcourse.”

“Thankyou,” said Turadyl. Truly happy at this offer. “Can you tell us anything more about the pass itself. How will we recognise it after we cross the desert?”

“Of the pass itself you must first understand that it is said to not really be a pass at all. In the children’s tales it is a maze of narrow valleys, river canyons and dark tunnels. It is home to every nasty creature that in-habits the lands. Sorry, but I don’t know how you will tell the start of the pass from just another river valley in the mountains. However, I do remember long ago that a monastery was built nearby to shelter travellers. This may be your best chance of finding help and getting directions. The monks there are followers of the true faith and can be trusted. When you make it through the Great Pass you can follow the map through to this Temple of Chaos.” The man sat back to gauge the group’s reaction.

For a second everyone was talking at once. It was good to have a firm plan for their travels in the next month, even if it was risky. Talel’s suggestion was quickly agreed on and he was thanked profusely.

Talel laughed again. “It is my duty to help you. But my friends, let us not dwell on the evil of man for the whole night. Let us celebrate that we are indeed still alive, if sometimes not by much more than luck by the stories you told me tonight! I will pray to the God’s for guidance and therefore I must go into the desert and fast for several days. While I am gone, please make yourself at home and recover from your wounds and rest."

Shayam spoke up, he had almost forgotten to ask. “We were most impressed by the desert craft that you men showed.” The thief blushed. “It is not often that people sneak up on me and I must admit that I am intrigued.

“I can help you with that,” said Hardin with a smile. “While our leader is away I will spend the next few days showing you all which plants make good camouflage and the right sort of sand that is needed to dig into easily.

Shayam accepted this offer for the group and looked pleased. He knew that the training would make the time go quickly.

The next few days provided a welcome rest from the pace of travel the group had suffered until now. The band of dervishes were friendly but faintly strange and more than a little fanatic, a bit like Malthus really. Kris thought that they were all just waiting for an opportunity to die gloriously. After several days Talel summoned the group back to his tent. Faint and a little ill looking after his desert fast the man was lying down on his bed when the group entered his tent. In a weak voice he recounted what he heard and saw. "The visions were faint and filled with shadows and dread. I never felt safe while in the land of my dreams. I saw what you must seek but fear that seeking them might be your doom. You must find the land where terror sleeps beneath the ground, you must talk with four strong men who cannot move and finally you must meet the man who is not a man. Then you will be near the great pass. I can not help you further, you must leave now. One off my men will guide you a small way."

Malthus was perplexed as the rest of them by the strange account of Talel. He wished he could talk further with the holy man, but they were very quickly dismissed from Talel’s tent. He seemed too sick from his experiences to talk. Malthus knew all too well the importance of visions and signs and hopes that what was seen were in fact good omens for the group.

The rest of the day was spent packing as, once again, the party prepared to leave the safety of a refuge. Each member of the party was lost in their own thoughts as they prepared for the journey tomorrow. What was the terror they must seek? Who was the man who was not a man? Where could they find strong men who could not move? The next morning the party saddled their new mounts and headed into the wilderness. "Good luck my friends!", Talel said softly as they rode out from the camp. He had managed to raise from his bed and was not looking as pale that day. But they were swept by him by their escort. All too soon this escort turned back as the party entered the Plain of Fire.

The beginning of the plain was very clear. Unlike the desert tracks they were used to the plain was hotter, far too hot to travel in during a lot of the day. The area was made of huge lava plains with black, glass like rocks thrust up and broken by long gone volcanic activity. Black gritty sand was driven into their faces, stinging and whipping them relentlessly. Only a few dried out plants dotted the ground, with very little sign of animal life. Leeham for one, considered this a good thing. “There can’t be much for them to eat between travellers,” he thought. “That means there can’t be much alive out here at all!”

Other members of the party were worried about other things. On their second morning on the plain the rose to an even stronger wind than usual. The black glassy grit was like sand paper and rubbed exposed skin raw in minutes. "I should have stayed at home!" Ark cried out as he tried to rub the sand from his eyes.

"Ahh the desert is the only place to be!", replied Cronwyn, who looked at home and comfortable much to the distaste of the elf. The merchant had found his women’s orange silk scarf again, and had it wrapped around his entire face. It worked better than it had in the swamp and it appeared that Cronwyn had found time to clean it since then.

During these long, blistering days, Ghitu's spirits seem subdued. In fact he hadn’t been himself since the group left the dervishes. As the heat sapped the party, he doled out the water reserves very carefully, jabbering at the drinker if he took too much.

The next day the group saw their first sign of the enemy. A patrol was spotted in the distance, a group of mainly goblins and trolls but with a few other non-humans mixed in as well. Their armour appeared tattered but it was hard to see well because the party spent their time hiding and keeping a distance. It was easy to evade them due to the sand reduced visibility and the broken lava flows offering numerous hiding spots. Still, the party were on guard and travelled more and more by night.

After a number of days they woke before dawn as usual. Turadyl announced that they were going to have rain that day. Everyone was disbelieving, since it seemed that it never rained in the huge wastes that surrounded them. However the elf was adamant that his “weather warning” spell was fool proof. Sure enough, that evening as the sun was starting to go down a huge line of clouds came rolling in from the horizon. Then a spot of rain could be felt on bare skin, then another and another. Soon the air was full of rain and the party was caught in a downpour. The rain was a welcome relief from the hot dry weather of the past month and water skins were filled to the top again. Then, as quickly as it started, it stoped. The ground was covered with small puddles and the humidity quickly climbed making clothes stick to sweaty skin. The ground had become sticky, with the fine layer of dust on the rocks turned to mud. It was hard going for the camels. "A bad omen possibly?", Cronwyn warned, "It never rains in this cursed land."

An hour or to later there was no sign of the downpour. The sun was very low in the sky at that point. As the party moved onwards they become aware of a slight shaking in the ground. "Not an earthquake as well!" exclaimed Ark. Stopping, they could hear a slight scratching noise as the shaking continued. Suddenly a dragon-like head rose from the desert ground, hissing at the camels! The mounts panicked and scattered in all directions, Ark and Leeham were thrown from their beasts as the remainder fought to control the wildly panicked animals. Many more heads started to emerge on long snaking necks. All looked at the party as their next meal.

Turadyl was the first to respond. He immediately invoked his arcane skill and launched himself skyward with a 'fly' spell. He hoped that his mount would fair better without his weight hindering it. The elf climbed in height to put some distance between the creature and himself – it seemed at the moment that the heads were ignoring him at least. Turadyl prepared to cast his lighting bolt.

Leeham quickly scurried to his feet and drew his short sword. Looking about him at the heads sweeping down he weaved into the middle of the writhing mass. He hoped that his small size and magical armour would keep him safe. Dodging and diving between the heads Leeham struck quick blows with his sword in an attempt break the creature's hide.

Malthus righted himself quickly and looked up. He had to spring backwards sharply to stop a hydra’s head feasting on him. "Great Stefan's ghost!" Malthus exclaimed as he struggled to regain his footing. Another large head loomed over the cleric as he drew his war hammer from the loop in his belt. The beast made to strike its head down again but Malthus hit it with a dull thud. The head drew back for a second, disturbed but still drooling at the mouth for the holy man below.

Kris never lost control of his camel and drove it back from the beast several steps, or at least tried to. A head sprung out from the main body of the monster with jaws gaping. Kris managed to avoid the teeth by flinging him self of his mount. Throwing his useless bow to one side he drew his sword and defended himself from the next incoming head. Ark was there next to him, his elvan blade defending him also.

Cronwyn had also stayed on his camel and was engaged with a head in one on one battle. His blade flashed dully in the setting sun as he hit out with controlled precision. But another head quickly encircled him and with blinding speed attacked from the side. The creature knocked Cronwyn off his camel, its teeth cutting into his tunic – he had not been wearing his mail coat because of the heat. The hydra dove into bite the defenceless fighter.

Shayam was there in a second, leaping nimbly down from his mount with daggers flashing. With a jump he managed to leap up to the head and hit his dagger into its chin with all his might. As the dagger held, he kept his grip on it, even as he was pulled several feet up by the rearing, screaming beast. But the pain was too much for the monster. It pulled back from Cronwyn, but not far. The merchant lay still on the ground, still stunned from the blow that had knocked him there.

Ghitu cried out. He had not noticed Cronwyn’s situation since he had been wildly chasing after the camels heading in every direction. He had just given up when he noticed the merchant bleeding into the desert sand with the dark-skinned thief standing over him, ready to fend two heads off. Malthus and Kris were also only just evading the teeth of the hydra, while Leeham had disappeared into the middle of the beast. Ark was failing about with his sword desperately, perhaps trying to buy enough room to cast a spell. With a low moan the desert boy sunk to his knees in the sand, sobbing uncontrollably.

The only member of the party left free was Turadyl. A lightening bolt leapt from his fingers and struck through one head. It crackled with electric fire for an instant before falling limp on the ground. Although the elf was in no immediate danger, he could see the hydra over-running his friends one by one. A head caught a glancing blow on Ark, and sent the elf sprawling the sand. Shayam was being slowly driven back from Cronwyn, even though the large man fought with all his furry. Turadyl send a rain of magical missiles down to assist Shayam, but the creature just shrugged it off. A head drew back to pounce on the still prone Cronwyn. Suddenly the air in front of Turadyl shimmered violently. The hydra vanished!

“What?!” Kris was astonished. “How did you do that Turadyl?” The archer asked even as he ran across with Malthus to help the injured Cronwyn. Ark was looking at Turadyl suspiciously. “That was mighty magic indeed,” he said with a puzzled face. The feral Alfheimer wondered if he had under-estimated his more civilised cousin.

Turadyl floated to the ground, just as stunned as everybody else. “I didn’t do anything! In fact I was just thinking how bad things were when... It just vanished!”

“Never mind where it went for a second!” bellowed Malthus. “Help me with Cronwyn.” Both the cleric and Shayam were bent over the injured fighter.

“I’m fine!” protested Cronwyn, slightly weakly. “I will be alright given a few minutes to regain my wind. Shayam arrived just in time.”

During all this Leeham had managed to pick him self up of the ground and dust him self off. He had been trapped under the body of the creature for the entire fight, almost trampled beneath its bulk and the desert floor. He realised that he was lucky that the black sand here had been bit softer than the harsh rocks they had been travelling through earlier. The halfling noted that all the other party members were at least alive, and then crept forward to investigate the hole that the hydra had sprung from. The rocks around the area had been shattered from the creature’s rising, and revealed a sort of huge tunnel or cavern underneath.

The halfling whistled. It seemed likely that this whole region was cross-crossed with these tunnels, some longer than others. As he peered over the edge he saw that the bottom was littered with a mixture of thousands of bones and shinning metal. Most of the metal appeared corroded beyond use, but he could still make out some coins at the bottom. He wondered if there would be time to retrieve some of it… Suddenly he had to fling himself back from the lip of the cavern as a small brown shape flew out and swept towards the rest of the party.

Before anyone else could respond, the blur travelled past where they were treating Cronwyn. It was a small furry monkey, and it was jabbering in a panicked way as it ran at full speed towards where the remainder of the camels were.

Kris was quick to nock an arrow in a bow, but not before the creature made it to Ghitu, and wove up the boy’s body to sit on his turbaned head. The desert simpleton did not seem surprised, in fact he did not respond at all. He merely continued to sit slumped in the sand with his head downcast. He had not moved since he had collapsed during the party’s fight.

Kris was astonished by the appearance of the monkey, but kept his wits. "Have I been poisoned... Or am I simply drunk?” He thought to himself, but his actions showed no signs of hesitation. The archer aimed an arrow at the monkey while waiting for his friends to gather round him. He spoke calmly to Ghitu. "Boy, don't move. Stand still and I will not hit you."

Ghitu looked up. His tanned cheeks were streaked with tears, but the violent jabbering that usually accompanied his every action was absent. He stared into Kris’ eyes and remained quiet. The Sindian offered one of his fingers to the monkey and it took it in its leathery hand readily. Ghitu’s movement interposed his arm with Kris’ line of sight, and the archer had to move round to get another clear shot. “What is going on here?!” Kris called out. “Where did that hydra go? Or did it turn itself into… a monkey?!”

All of them except Malthus and Cronwyn were now standing around Ghitu. Turadyl mumbled a few words, Ark nodded as he recognised the ‘Detect Magic’ enchantment that had been one of the first spells he had learnt as a child. “That creature is definitely magical,” Turadyl said.

“I don’t know where it came from,” said Ark. “But I suggest we kill it and then ask questions later.”

Ghitu looked up towards the elf. Turadyl was taken aback. He didn’t remember a time when the dull witted boy had ever looked him in the eye before, and Ghitu had certainly never showed signs of understanding Thyatian (the common tongue) before. “Perhaps the boy guessed my meaning by the tone of my voice,” he thought to himself.

The simpleton picked the monkey of his head and brought to his chest to nurse it like a baby. "What are you doing Ghitu?!” Kris asked impatiently although he knew that the boy couldn’t understand. “That creature could be dangerous!" Ghitu had started to talk to the monkey in a soft lilting Sindian tongue. He was saying something to the monkey while shaking his head. For some reason Turadyl imagined that the words seemed clearer than before, almost as though the boy was saying something with real meaning rather than the random mutterings they usually heard.

“Let him keep it for a moment!” suggested Cronwyn. The fighter had managed to make his way to his feet with Malthus’ help. The merchant had a small patch of blood on his tunic but otherwise looked comfortable. “We had better fine somewhere suitable to spend the night... Unless you want to stay here. We have only a few minutes of light left.” The party looked up into the sky and realised that this was true.

Kris was unconvinced. The Karameikan wondered if the fight had confused him, but he knew there was a link between the monkey and the hydra. “I think we should end the creature’s life now. It is the safe thing to do,” he said forcefully. He moved to step towards Ghitu.

Ghitu had risen and gathered the reigns of a returning camel while the monkey had climbed back up to nest in his grubby turban. Responding to the archer's raised voice, Ghitu turned with a smile. The boy flinched into a crouch at the sight of Kris’ angry face and the hand reaching for him. With hands raised in supplication he passed the reigns of the camel he had just collected to Malthus, and huddled on the earth. He didn’t say a word.

Malthus stood through all this and accepted the reigns from Ghitu, with a rather blank look on his face. "By the gods." he said, still watching the monkey. "Halav," Malthus called to no one in particular, "You test me again." He looks at the archer. "Kris, perhaps you shouldn't shoot the monkey just yet..."

Kris was doubtful. "As you want priest." He took a few steps back and lowered his bow, though it was still firmly in his hands. Until he cleared his doubts his weapons would remain close at hand, and his eyes still nervously shifted right and left in search of any sign of the hydra. This was all too much like the stories told of the Westron Woods back in his homeland for his liking.

The party got underway fairly quickly. Leeham and Shayam quickly searched the hydra’s lair with some help from Ark. A lot of gold and silver was found, but since the party could not carry it across the desert, very little as taken. Ghitu gathered up the camels with the help of Kris and Turadyl, who was still flying. Malthus continued to tend to Cronwyn who said he was fine. The bandages had stopped the small amount of bleeding there had been, helped with a healing spell from Malthus. They gathered together and moved off to the north-west, with the setting sun in front of them. They decided to stop after only half an hour, just as the last rays of sun were disappearing. They could have made camp by the lair of the hydra, but its stink still infested the place.

The night passed without incident. Turadyl rose first as usual, so that he could study from his spell-book. He always seemed to take longer than Ark who he guessed had about as much to memorize. Not for the first time he wondered how seriously the other elf took his magical skills. Therefore it was Turadyl who noticed that Ghitu was missing. Just before he had been going to wake everybody else, the simple minded boy appeared over the nearest black dune with his monkey in tow. He had no excuse for his disappearance other than a smile, but since Turadyl had no way of communicating with him, he let the matter drop with a sigh. It didn’t have time to waste anyway, since he hadn’t sleep a full night before, he was struggling to learn all his spells and needed to concentrate. Within half an hour they were on the move again.

Several hours later the party saw a haze gathering in the distance. No one commented at first because they were so tired from the hot sun which blazed even first thing in the morning. But an hour later the haze had became a cloud rolling in. "Not more rain!" Ark commented. Turadyl shook his head. “I didn’t get enough time to relearn all of my spells this morning, but I did cast my weather prediction spell. There will be no weather problems today.”

The group stopped and studied the cloud for a few minutes. As it approached, the haze resolved itself into a boiling mass of dust. Suddenly the faint rising and falling of a low rumble was able to be heard. Everyone looked back and forwards at each other, but it was Kris who mouthed their fears first. “Its an army!” he called out.

Shayam looked around frantically for a place to hide, remembering everything that the partisans had taught him. This part of the plain was more broken than most, and quite a deep wadi (gully) was nearby. It looked like a stream bed that had been eaten into the rock, and was coated with a thick layer of brown dirt rather than the coarse black sand everywhere else. Set into the sides of the valley were indents, some of which looked quite deep. “Lets move over there,” suggested the thief. “One of those caves may be deep enough to hide in.”

As the party fled the cloud grew larger and appeared to be several miles wide. They were definite it was an army by the time they reached the wadi – the sound of the troops riding was un-mistakable. Ark, Turadyl and Leeham shared a look – only Man or his more brutal "relatives" would so arrogantly announce his approach. The party had a good lead and it was still impossible to make out individual troops by the time that they got to the creek bed. Their mounts lurched over the crumbling rim of the wadi and down out of prying eyes for a second. Leeham was curious about where the water to cut this passage had come from, but there was no time to ask as they frantically searched along the sides for a place to hide.

A call from Ark brought them all riding hard. His keen eyes had seen an opening that branched out into a fair sized cave inside. The caves entrance was wide enough for two armed men to make a last stand shoulder to shoulder... “If it came to that…” announced the elf. But a mounted rider would lose his head if he weren't prone on his beast's back. A quick glance up and down the twisting wash showed no other openings nearby, but several other nooks and overhangs were around to produce pools of shadow that would help camouflage the cave’s mouth. Ark had done well to see it. Approaching the cave, Leeham thought he could almost feel the cool shadiness reaching out into the withering day.

Further inspection by the two elves found a darkness inside that was in stark contrast to the burnt earth of the gully bed. The cave went back into the bank about thirty feet in an irregularly shaped chamber. It appeared that water, from somewhere, had carved out smooth walls that met where the floor and ceiling gradually sloped towards each other. Turadyl estimated that Leeham would be able to stand at the sides of the cave but Shayam or Cronwyn would have to crouch. With his infravision he even spied a few low depressions in the uneven stone floor. Dipping his finger in one he found a thin puddle of water.

Without wasting time the two left the cave. “It is big enough to hold all of us and even the animals,” said Turadyl. The rest of the party gratefully started filing into the opening. Cronwyn groaned as he dismounted and his leg muscles adjusted to standing again after the past hour spent on camel back. Despite the urgency, Malthus chuckled by way of sympathy. Once they were all inside, Kris and Turadyl ran back out and up to the lip of the wadi to spy on the enemy.

Any who had witnessed the thrilling and terrifying spectacle of an army on the move would have recognized the sound of hundreds of hooves and feet punishing the ground in their path instantly. Now smaller plumes could be made out at the front and edges of the main cloud. Before either of them could make out any details the Sindian winds merged them into the rolling dust bank. The black grit was now so high it was obscuring all but the tallest rock formations and high bluffs beyond.

Kris swallowed as the true scope of the army's size impacted on him. The heat shimmer off the ground made it hard to see details, but the dust now spread far to his left and right.

"How many?" the sentence died in the air when the archer realised that he was in the path of the largest army he had ever seen. Impressed by the amazing view he lost a few more stunned moments.

Kris' sharp eyes did make out that some of the groups vanguard were mounted, but what they were riding wasn’t clear. These outriders were moving faster than the group behind them and appeared to be scouting the terrain. It seemed silly for them to have the scouts so close to a force that could be seen for miles… Unless the real scouts are good enough to be far ahead of the main body of the army without being spotted!  The terrain on the plain before him was broken by numerous ridges, rock formations, and gullies (like the one he was lying on). There were many places to hide and occurred to the archer that he could be being watched right now.

“Ready to go?” he whispered to Turadyl. The quiet elf nodded and the two of them carefully ran down to the cave. Leeham and Shayam were gathered nervously at the entrance. Kris looked at them grimly.

"My friends, I have never seen such a gathering of men.” His words were excited, clearly he didn’t feel at ease inside the cave. “The front of the army is miles across, and they appear to have scouts searching all the way along it.” He didn’t add that he admired the army’s organization. “Is there a way to magically hide the entrance? His eyes moved hopefully to Turadyl sitting further inside the cave.

"Sorry Kris," replied Turadyl. “I don't have any enchantments that can do that. Our best bet is probably to stay put until they are long past, assuming that they are on the enemy’s side.” Turadyl added the last sentence hopefully.

"Gentle One." Leeham addressed Turadyl formally. "I believe I can add a bit of cover to our hiding spot. I noticed a couple of plants I could use to make a screen. With your permission, I could try."

Ignoring the reverence for a second, the elf nodded.

With a look to Turadyl, Ark took the halfling by the shoulder. "Come then halfling," he said gruffly with his thick Alfheim accent. "We will do what we can but get ready to move back inside the cave the moment I say to.”

Leeham looked up in awe. “Yes Gentle one!”

Shayam noticed that Ark didn’t protest when the Hin called referred him, quite the opposite of Turadyl.

While Leeham and Ark disappeared outside, the rest of the party tried to quiet the animals. The camels had NOT been happy had being forced into the cave, but the smell of fresh water had overcome that fear for a few minutes. Now the last of the water had been sucked of the cold rocks, they had realised just how cramped the situation was. They were growing more agitated by the second and were neighing piteously . Ghitu and Cronwyn were doing their best, but it was too much for the beasts.

Seeing this, Malthus uttered the words, "Mighty Halav, silence our sounds and our presence from those who seek us." With a wave and a gesture a pall of silence descended on the cave.

“Malthus, wait for a…!” called out Turadyl, but the end of his sentence was cut off. He had seen the use of such a spell before and knew the effect it could have on animals. In combination with the confined spaces they had at the moment he guessed it might be quite dangerous.

The camels reared back, scared at not being able to hear their own noises. Suddenly everybody left in the cave was in danger of being trampled by the beasts, but Ghitu managed to gain control of a pair by the entrance to the cave and this at least kept the rest from escaping.

Leeham and Ark were outside the influence of the spell, but heard the sounds of the noisy animals disappear abruptly. They had not time to investigate this though, because they were working hard.

At Leeham’s suggestions they had rolled about ten smallish rocks a little closer to the mouth and then placed some old dried "spike" shrubs among them. The pair quickly worked up a heavy sweat as they scrambled up and down the lip to grab likely looking pieces for their blind. There was a moment, when by mutual assent, they left a live shrub where it stood even though it would have been perfect for the camouflage. There was something to be admired in the way it was prying a life out of the harsh black sand and rocks.

Their muscles strained as they rolled one dwarf sized rock to the cave's edge. Leeham made a silent hand motion to suggest that they should stop at that point. Anything else won't help much more, and would have only served to make it harder for the group to get out if they had to. Ark deferred to the Halfling’s expertise, and in any case sound of the army was now truly on them. As they stood there surveying their meagre progress, the sounds of hooting and honking were echoing down the wash. The elf turned to walk back into the cave.

Suddenly, the Hin’s hand slammed down on Ark’s shoulder! “Look Gentle One!” Leeham said in a hushed whisper.

The Hin’s hand was stretched out towards the far bank, opposite the cave and a bit further down. It was the point where the party had descended into the gully, and the wall of the wash had been disturbed for all to see! Coarse black sand had been tipped over into the more soil like dirt in the wadi, leaving a tell-tale grimy streak. They both knew that all their work would be for naught if that was seen – and you would have to be blind to miss it.

"By Locktals beard!" Leeham cursed softly to himself as he looked on. "Stay here Wise One. I think I can still erase those tracks and still be unseen."

Ark looked surprised, but nodded. He ventured back into the cave to get help if needed.

Leeham fell to the ground and rolled around in the muck at the caves entrance, where the disturbance would be hidden by the blind. When the fine tunic and cloak over his chain mail had been thoroughly dirtied, he quickly moved towards the tracks.

Back inside the cave Ark had made it clear to Turadyl, Ark and Cronwyn that something was wrong. He was baffled by the lack of sound (due to Malthus’ spell), but at least the cleric had cast it so that the first five feet of the cave were not affected. The four of them squeezed into this area and peered out while remaining hidden.

Staying low to the ground, the small halfling was scurrying practically on all fours across the dry riverbed. His cloak and hair were matted with the fine greyish dirt from the bottom of the wadi. Leeham made it to the tracks very swiftly, and disappeared over the top of the lip.

In a few seconds he reappeared, moving fluidly with his cloak off. Using the small strip of fabric he carefully smoothed away all signs of the party’s passage. Sometimes he erased the marks all together, but others he left to appear like natural signs of erosion.

"Hmmph. Take note," Ark murmured in Elvish to Turadyl. "He is talented-deadly.”

“Yes,” answered Turadyl in Thyatian. “But in a few minutes it won’t matter. The army is right around the corner.” The calls from down the wadi were now loud and clear. Kris peered out as far as he dared and thought he could see shadows moving on the gully wall around a bend to the north. Leeham was thirty yards to their south, in the wadi which ran due north-south.

“He’ll make it,” said Kris quietly. But inwardly he was praying, “Come on Leeham. Looking good. Now just make your way back…”

What the archer couldn’t see was the perspiration pouring down the Fang Leader's brow. “It's just the heat," the halfling kept reminding himself. "Just the heat. I'll be fine as long as I stay calm. Just a little more here, and then crawl up there, and get that bit by the edge and… FREEZE!"

Whether it was from years of combat experience, or some primitive part of the Halfling brain that had grown from being the prey of larger predators for centuries, Leeham will never know. But something told him to stop at that precise moment.

As the party watches, the Halfling trooper become completely frozen. “What is he doing?” murmured Cronwyn. “It’s all done, he can come back to the cave now.” A mere heartbeat later a winged shadow made a slashing path across the gully. It was followed almost immediately by another… and another. They criss-crossed the wadi like great birds of prey

Leeham had stopped moving. He had stopped breathing. He froze in the awkward position he was in, close to the top of the wadi. He turned his head with agonising slowness and saw a flight of creatures above him that weren’t birds… But something more dangerous looking. It was hard to tell, as they were silhouetted against the sun, but they looked to top heavy for birds and it was as though they had humanoid heads. One thing was for sure, they weren’t the most graceful of fliers, and the screeching noise they made him want to put his hands over his ears.

“He is lucky,” grunted Ark quietly at the entrance to the cave. “They are harpies.”

Turadyl nodded. He also knew that Harpies had a poor sense of sight. He hoped that their keen sense of smell was made useless by the swirling sands.

Kris tried to peer up at the creatures from the crowded doorway while still staying out of sight. His fingers were tightly gripped around his bow and a notched arrow. The archer feared that his heat-beat was so loud that the enemy might hear it, but there was nothing he could do to rescue the Halfling. “Leeham’s only chance is to find a good moment and make a run for it back to the cave,” he thought to himself.

Fifty yards away, the Hin was having the exact same thought. He had remained frozen as the harpies had passed overhead, and then relaxed as the last one had floundered over the lip of the wadi. Leeham made a mental note to properly thank the High Heroes later, at the moment time was too precious to think about anything but escape. But then he glanced northwards down the dry creek bed and saw he was too late!

The air was filled with a swell of shouts, hooting and the beating of feet as around the northern curve of the wadi a band of squat humanoids appeared. They were mounted on the backs of outlandish mounts, which still couldn’t be seen clearly. Their lance banners fluttered strongly as they closed the one hundred yards to the party with terrifying swiftness. Leeham didn’t waste anymore time.

With a slow, sliding motion, he crept in a prone position towards the shelter of a rock outcropping. Once there, he took a moment to refasten his cloak, further breaking up his outline. Surveying his handy work at track covering he saw that it looked pretty good. Across the gully, the group wondered if it would be enough. Leeham found a good hiding place in a shallow depression next to a small rock. Without haste he gently eased himself into it, smoothed his cloak out over him and held deadly still. It was strange, but he actually felt more comfortable hidden out here in the open than he would have in the cave. He knew he would be almost invisible as long as he didn’t move, especially at the rate the riders were travelling at. He raised his cloak up for a second and gave his friends back in the cave a wink, not that he could see them hiding in the shadows.

“Cheeky!” chuckled Cronwyn. “At least he looks comfortable out there, and I would never see him unless I had been told he was there. Ark, Turadyl and Kris all agreed, but remained quiet because the riders were now passing them. The heroes got a good look at them as they shot by the entrance.

The riders appeared to be goblins, with long-tapering ears and a grey-brown skin tone that marked them as not native to Eastern Brun (the East is where the party come from, and Brun is the name of the entire continent, remember?). About half their number were armed with lances from which fluttered snakeskin and wolf-tail streamers. Their mounts were tall, muscular birds with long, hairless legs, dark-plumed bodies, and thin but powerful legs. These creature’s feet and lower legs were protected by leather-studded bracers from which sharp, metal spikes protruded. These put Cronwyn and Shayam in mind of the spurs worn by fighting gamecocks in Darokin City. The hooting sounds, audible long before, had obviously come from these beasts. As the goblins whipped them forward, the whole group looked dusty and tired, but Cronwyn noticed with dismay that their equipment looked new and the goblins showed none of the signs of dehydration that were already visible on the party's gaunt faces.

Kris' words were just a whisper: "I can't believe it! They are riding giant chickens !!!" Trying to stay as close as possible to the floor, and out of sight, the archer started considering what would be the easier target. The goblin riders or their mounts? In each case survivors would still be able to fight on. The archer hoped he never had to fight these creatures.

Malthus had remained at the back of he cave with Ghitu the whole time. He hadn’t had a chance to see the birds as they passed through. He did catch Kris comment though. The strange part of his silence spell was that he could hear noises coming in from outside, just none that were made within fifteen feet of the target. "Giant chickens?" the cleric thought to himself. "In the desert?" Though the cleric had seen many strange sights in his travels, he marvelled that there was always something new. Malthus pictured giant versions of plump chickens in his head. He smiled as he thought of their heads jerking and bobbing as they walked, and couldn’t imagine that they’d make very good mounts. He strained to see through the front of the cave for a few, but was too far back. Malthus figured that facing giant versions of scratching claws and pecking beaks would not be fun, but still couldn’t help rubbing his belly. The create food and water spell from his God kept spirit and body alive, but his mouth watered as he thought of a giant chicken roast for dinner – the food on the journey hadn’t been the same since Alexander had left. He hoped that the riding hadn’t made them too stringy.

Drawing up just past the cave opening, the goblins and their mounts surveyed the gully. It was apparently this action which had held them up round the corner of the wadi long enough to give Leeham a chance to erase the tracks. There was a flurry of shouting and gesturing from two who appeared to be leaders, and at least one goblin received a clout to the head for offering suggestions to his superiors. There seems to be some question as to which way to proceed.

One goblin near the cave seemed to be looking right at the cave mouth. The group at the entrance sweated and held totally still. Suddenly his mount did a quick sidestep, and required his full attention. By the time
he had it calmed it down, the debate between the strike leaders had been settled by someone shouting from the rim above the cave.

A deep, rumbling voice was heard yelling over a mixture of loud grinding and "thrumming" sounds. The goblin’s faces turned up to listen to the deep and booming voice. Then with a quick bark, they burst into activity. One part of the group continued off southwards down the wadi. The majority urged their mounts into a sprint aimed right up the far wall. With a kick, and an explosion of flapping feathers, the birds launched themselves and their riders in a ungraceful (but effective) short flight up to the gully rim. Most had awkward landings at the edge and one pair almost fell back in, but with a scrambling of clawed toes, the bizarre bird and rider combination disappeared over the top. The hooting cries drifted back to the party as the two groups signalled to each other.

But for the ever-growing grinding noise, now coming through the very stone itself, "quiet" returned to the riverbed…

Cronwyn took the chance to correct Kris. “They aren’t giant chickens, you Southern barbarian!” he whispered. They’re screechers, and don’t under estimate them. I had to deliver a pair from Sayr Ulan to Thyatis five years ago. One of the nasty brutes escaped right on the docks and broke a man’s knee-cap before we could re-capture it!”

“In any-case, they look like good eating!” said Kris quietly with a grin. Cronwyn rolled his eyes, but Malthus was laughing loudly in the back of the cave, under the cover of the silence spell.

The banter of the two humans was cut short but a quick word from Ark. The wild elf had been watching Leeham since the screechers had disappeared, and the halfling hadn’t moved a muscle. Crouching in the cave mouth, Ark had been wondering why. Suddenly, he was answered.

With an earth-shattering CRASH! A gigantic figure landed in the gully from the rim above. Clad in a garish pair of trousers and exposed to the waist, the charcoal skinned giant carried an enormous pick axe with a haft easily as long as a man. His red hair was tucked up, Urduk-style, in a head wrap. The giant being was about half an arrow’s shot from the party, but so big was his face that Ark could see his brows furrow as he scanned the walls. The elf was relieved that Cronwyn and Kris next to him had at least shut up.

This giant turned to look up at the lip he had just leapt from. He called out a few brutal sounding words and gestured to the north. Several of the party recognised the language as goblin, but with a strange accent. The huge Urduk had called out to someone to take ‘it’ that way. Cronwyn wondered what ‘it’ was. The deep vibrations that had been reverberating around the valley increased in volume till the sounded like they were coming from right overhead. Sand and grit started to rain down from the roof of the cave.

The giant turned, and started walking slowly up the wadi towards the party’s position. The three in the cave mouth hunkered down in the camouflage of the rocks even more closely while Leeham remained frozen.

Over the long desert nights afterwards, they were never able to agree how it happened. Kris thought maybe one of them had made a noise, but Leeham said he thought it was just pure bad luck. The halfling was in the best position to see because by the time it happened the giant was in-between him and the rest of the party. While walking up the dry creek bed the hot sun reflected off the blade of the giant’s axe. The gleaming reflection swung around the gully walls randomly, until, by accident, it passed over the spot where the party’s bolt-hole was located. Perhaps the light gleamed off Cronwyn’s tunic, or Ark’s sword, but some glint caught the giants eye. The monster, which was now on fifty yards away, froze – not sure of what he had seen.

“We are dead,” muttered Ark darkly back in the cave mouth. It was too late to scuttle back into the cave now, movement would only serve to attract the beast’s attention. The elf prepared to fight.

The giant brought his weapon down to the ground and leaned on it, peering over to get a better view of the cave. The broad chested monster paused and stared for a long moment. When finally all were certain that he had seen them, he rose himself to his full height and was about to start forward. He was distracted from a sudden sound behind him.

It was Leeham! The halfling had unsheathed his sword and had it lain deliberately across his shoulder. The Hin trooper quipped loudly enough to be heard by all. “Well Giant, I’m willing to accept your surrender!”

Chapter Twelve
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