“Damn that Brogus,” said Milli as she and Petra sat in the luxurious tent provided to them by the Black Rider. The cushions were made of some soft material that Milli did not recognize, and there seemed an endless supply of fresh drinks and food brought in by handsome young nomads with black eyes and hard muscles. Indoors the nomad’s loose fitting clothes sometimes slipped to reveal far more skin than Milli was used to seeing. “Why does he have to drink so much and blather on like a child?” she said as her eyes wandered to the departing nomad whose muscled legs displayed handsomely in the short wrap that he wore.
Petra put her finger to her lips and replied quietly, “Shhhh, it’s most likely that Tahnoon has spies around our tent. He is a crafty one, pretending to get drunk while all the while asking leading questions and hoping for information. The Black Horseman and Tahnoon planned that entire meeting down to the wine they served. They’ll never let us go. They’ll get what they need to know about Corancil and his armies and then they’ll kill us.”
“I don’t know,” said Milli with a shrug of her shoulder and longing gaze at the jug filled with the sweetest juice she’d ever tasted. “Ming seemed like a pretty decent fellow before he had to leave.”
“Good guard, bad guard,” said Petra. “I’ve been in enough prisons in my life to know that game. They’re scared of Corancil and his armies. They think he’ll invade and they’re almost certainly right. You know that as well as I do. They’ll get as much information from us as possible and then kill us in some awful way. Stake us out in the sun, feed us to some terrible desert creature, trample us with those horses of theirs, who knows, but they’ll kill us in the end, don’t make a mistake about that,” she continued with her black eyes cold and set as she stared at the girl. “Don’t let notions of romance fool you into a sense of security.”
“How can you be so sure?” said Milli with a rather unfocused gaze at the woman. Then she paused briefly before continuing “You’ve been in prison?”
“Since I was a little girl, many times. We gypsies are always hunted and hounded and framed for something the local noble’s son did in the first place. It’s always the same. People say those in authority do what’s necessary, while we are called thieves for stealing only a fraction of what they take. Some prisons are worse, some are better, but none of them are good. We are in one now, gilded to be certain, but a prison nonetheless. Ming knows about Craggen Steep, he knows we carry a large amount of treasure, and they’re fools if they couldn’t see the power of Dol’s hammer. They’ll want the gold and hammer if nothing else. Even if we don’t have much information about the invasion they’ll want that much.”
“Damn that Brogus! Why did Davim make men so stupid?”
“It’s in their nature, you use it to your advantage. Don’t deny it, little girl, I’ve seen you flip your hair and bat your eyes.”
Milli pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders before she smiled, “That’s a different kind of stupid.”
Petra shook her head, “Stupid is what it is. And don’t think it’s an accident that they’ve sent handsome young stallions to our tent. You can bet that they’ve sent pretty girls to the boys.”
At this Milli suddenly looked down and felt her face go red.
Petra patted her arm and gave a little knowing wink, “No sense in not looking though! Now, we have to figure out how to escape from here before they kill us. We have to hint that we know more about Corancil than we’re letting on so they keep trying to get Brogus drunk to find out more. The longer we can stay alive the better our chances to escape.”
“How can we escape?” said Milli. “It’s nothing but desert in all directions, and even if we stole horses you saw how those nomads ride. They’d track us down in hours.”
“We need to find a map of the desert. There’s that trading town they said, Tanta. We steal the horses, get to the trading town, and get aboard a ship heading south to the volcano lands. We learned that much at least. From there it can’t be too hard to find five volcanoes. How many areas can have five of them right next to each other?”
“I don’t know,” said Milli and buried her head in her hands. “How did things get so messed up? We were supposed to come south, kill Gazadum, and get famous and rich. It shouldn’t be that hard.”
Petra looked at the girl and shook her head, “How old are you, Milli?”
“Nineteen I think,” said the girl. “They weren’t sure how old I was when they found me. Three or four they guess.”
“And you’ve lived your entire life in Craggen Steep, with dwarves?”
Milli nodded as a tear formed in her eye.
“It’s okay; it’s not your fault, Milli,” said Petra and again patted her gently on the arm.
“We’re all going to die and it’s my fault! I didn’t think ahead, I didn’t plan for the desert, I didn’t think Ming would kill us. I’m so stupid.”
“Just naive,” said Petra and leaned over to give the girl a hug. “It’s okay. Girls are allowed to cry.”
Milli choked back a sob, “Not dwarf girls, crying is for the weak.”
“Oh dearie, that’s just not true. Let it all out. I’m here.”
Milli tried to prevent another sob but her little body convulsed and suddenly she was weeping and hugging Petra tightly.
In another tent, far enough away to seem close but distant enough to confuse strangers in the tent city, Dol sat over the unconscious Brogus and watched his snoring friend for long hours. The Hammer of Fire was at it his side as he contemplated the events of the evening silently and coolly although he felt his anger rising at his companion’s foolish admissions in the tent of the Black Horseman. He thought about waking Brogus just to chastise him but there was no sense in flogging a dwarf because he stole a little gold from the ore bin. He was certain that this Ming fellow would kill them all in the end, and he was even more concerned that the nomads might resort to torture to get information. The riders seemed like hard men who would do what it took to secure their safety.
Dol had watched, more than once, as dwarf torture masters used their wiles on captured darklings to get information about raids, citadels, strongholds, and anything else they might now. They broke down quickly under proper inducement and always told everything they knew or could make up. This was often useful but more often it was impossible to extract the truth from the myriad of lies. More than once Dol had watched a darkling, scourged to within an inch of his life tell of great hidden citadels with mountains of jewels, any lie just to stop the pain for a little while. Even more painful than the thought of torture was the idea that the hammer might fall into the hands of these nomads. His hammer. He caressed the handle lightly and felt the heat of it travel up his fingers. He was becoming more used to it every day. He practiced holding it for longer and longer periods of times when the others weren’t watching too closely. Soon he would be able to master its power. He remembered that first surge of heat when they broke through the wall to the outside world. Then again, much more powerfully, when he killed that nomad. The surge of fire, the heat, the power. He looked at the hammer by his side and stroked it again, “Nothing can stand in my way,” he whispered to himself. “Not when I have you. And I won’t let them take you.”
“What was that,” said Brogus groggily as he rolled onto his side. “I have to pee.”
“The pot’s over there,” said Dol pointing to an unseen corner of the tent. Earlier it took him nearly twenty minutes to find the thing. These tents with their hidden folds were not easy to navigate. He’d tried to watch as they came into the tent city, to keep track of direction, but it was difficult here on the surface. The inside of the tents were easier once you figured out how they folded but it had taken him some exploring before he figured it out.
“Where are the girls?” said Brogus as he let fly a tremendous torrent into the pot from out of sight beyond the cloth walls.
“I don’t know,” said Dol. “They said they were taking them to a female area of the encampment but I had to help bring you back here. Why did you drink so much?”
“Because it was free,” said Brogus with a wide smile as the pleasure of a powerful urination coursed through his frame. “Why didn’t you drink more?”
“We’re not back home anymore, Brogus,” said Dol and looked to the floor of the tent again. “You have to be careful what you say and what you do here. These are not our friends.”
“What?” said Brogus suddenly reappearing as he tried to pull up his pants and shove his member into them at the same time. “Ouch, almost nipped the little fellow there.”
“I said that we’re not at home anymore,” said Dol with a shake of his head as watched his still drunk friend try to navigate the complexities of their strange desert garb.
“Don’t I know it,” said Brogus and put his hand to the back of his neck. “That salve helped a bit but I’m still, what do they call it, kissed by the sun? I feel weak, tired, drained.”
“It could be all that beer you drank” suggested Dol although he too still felt the burning, sapping sensation of too much exposure to the intense sunlight.
“No chance,” said Brogus with a snort. “I’ve had more than that plenty of times. It’s the sun. It beats the energy right out of you. I’ll be glad to be gone from this place, even if it is to fight some elemental from the…”
Dol got up quickly and smacked Brogus across the top of the head before the dwarf could finish his sentence. “You’ve done enough damage already. Think before you speak. Don’t give them any more information. We’re not home, we’re not safe. These people mean us harm.”
“I don’t know,” said Brogus with a puzzled expression on his face and a deep frown. “They fed us pretty good.”
“How many times have you watched interrogation masters with Darklings. First they try the nice method. Give them food, water, tell them you’re their friend. What happens when that doesn’t work?”
Brogus stopped gargling the water he had plunged into his mouth from the large pitcher set up near the entrance of the tent in a specially made little pedestal and looked to Dol with his mouth still full. He looked around the tent, first to the left, then to the right and the put his hands out to Dol with his eyes filled with confusion.
“Tent flap is just there, by your hand, you can spit out the door,” said the tall dwarf as he put down the hammer and sat on one of the cushions in the main chamber. Their tent was quite roomy enough for two nomads, and the dwarfs were not much more than half as tall as the men so the place seemed massively spacious after their apprentice cubbies. Dol leaned back on an orange cushion and rested his head. After staying up all night watching Brogus he suddenly felt exhausted and he was almost instantly asleep.
Brogus stood outside and stared at the tents that surrounded them in every direction. He had no idea what direction he faced, and an occasional nomad drifted by, nodded a head, and said some pleasantry or another although the dwarf could not understand the words. He replied with a hello and a wave but they went on about their business without further notice. He walked all the way around the tent but could garner no further information about his location. A tent of one color or another stood, well staked to the hardpan dirt ground, to each side of him but there seemed to be little rhyme or reason to their location. “Treat it like’s a darkling warren,” said Brogus to himself and shut his eyes. “There is no sky, these are merely tunnels. All I have to do is remember my training, count the turns, note the landmarks. It’s just strange, not impossible.” With that he set his shoulders and started off in a direction. He wandered for several hours, taking note of the shape of the land in the same way he kept track of elevation when wandering a foreign tunnel far below the surface. He counted his steps without thinking and soon found himself standing at the shore of a large lake. Dozens of nomadic woman, many of them with small children wrapped up in strange little trusses, filled basins with the water and then returned to the tent city in a never ending line.
Brogus looked across the lake but the morning mist prevented him from seeing the far side of its shore. The tents were dense on this side of the lake but they slowly started to dwindle further up the shoreline in both directions. He walked ankle deep into the water, knelt down, and plunged his head into to the cool lake. He held it under and then pulled it out with a little whoop. Then he shook his long hair and beard in a spray of water. He repeated this process twice more much to the amusement of a group of children on the shore. They hooted and hollered strange words at him but he ignored them and continued to bathe himself. After his little cleansing he looked around again and noticed his audience still staring at him in wide-eyed wonder. There were about twenty of the little urchins watching him and he waved gaily and then set out to circle the lake. He didn’t get far when a tall nomad who seemed familiar joined him. “Do I know you?” said Brogus.
The nomad looked at him quizzically and shrugged his shoulders with incomprehension.
“I’m going for a walk around the lake,” said Brogus.
The nomad said nothing and his placid expression did not change.
Brogus shrugged and continued on the morning walk with his silent companion at his side. He managed to circle to the other side of the lake in about an hour. By the time he reached the far shore the mists no longer obstructed his view and he saw the tent city on the opposite side of the lake. There was a little hill not far to his left and he climbed it in about ten minutes. This gave him a good view of the city. His mind, used to deciphering endless dwarf and darkling tunnel mazes, managed to figure out the general vicinity of his and Dol’s tent although he could not make it out individually from the distance. The vivid colors splashed on the shore reminded him of mineral deposits in a deep cave although, at the same time, not much like that at all he finally admitted to himself. Still there was pattern, an order, in the display and where there was order his dwarf mind could go to work.
Another hour or so saw him back to the tent city which now bustled with energy as men and woman went about their daily business. While some of their behavior baffled him completely he did recognize much of the domestic work of washing, cleaning, gathering water, and emptying chamber pots as common to his own people. His arrival on the opposite side of the city meant that he was confused as to his location but he simply hugged the shore line until he got back to the spot where he first found the lake. He took another quick bath and then headed into the tents to see if he could find his way back to their temporary home. He got lost two times, although each proved fortuitous in its own way as he found a little stand that served the most delicious meat pies and another tent where he had a glass of the sweet nomadic beer. Each time he paid for the items with a few of the silver coins he obtained back in Das’von in exchange for their heavy gold coins. The nomads seemed to understand the value of gold and silver and honestly returned him the proper change, or at least he assumed as much. His escort accompanied him quietly; never threatening but not helping in any fashion either.
Eventually he arrived back at their tent with a significantly better understanding of the strange city. He found Dol still sleeping after his long night of watch with the Hammer of Fire safely ensconced at his side. Brogus looked all around the tent carefully, attempting to spot any hidden compartments where a spy might lurk and then lifted the outside flap and noted that the nomad who escorted him around the lake was gone. He then turned back to the interior of the tent and began a much more thorough inventory of its contents and layout. It only took him about twenty minutes to do so and just as he finished a little tinkling sound from outside alerted him to the presence of someone at the flap. He walked over to the entrance, stuck his head outside, and spotted Manetho standing there with a large grin on his face. “You’ve been exploring?”
Brogus nodded his head which seemed much clearer after his brisk walk. “Yes, it is an interesting type of city. I’ve never seen anything like it in the north.”
“We move the entire city at least four times a year, more in cases of emergency,” replied the nomad with a shrug of his shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind that we’ve provided you with an escort. It’s easy to get lost and if you walked into the tent of women you might have aroused a great deal of anger.”
Brogus nodded his head and smiled at the pleasant thought, “That makes sense.”
“We have some customs here in the Sands that you might not fully understand and I would not want an unfortunate incident marring your stay with us. Sheikh Ming agrees. I do hope you enjoyed your little trip around the lake?”
“I did,” said Brogus with a smile and a glance back towards the shoreline although the tent’s exterior walls blocked the view. “I also found a few of your delicacies for sale when I explored the camp. It is strange but not that different than my own home.”
“Where did you say you were from again?” asked Manetho with a smile as his eyes darted back and forth from Brogus to the city that surrounded them.
“A boring little city of dwarves in the north,” said Brogus with a glance back inside the tent where he knew Dol slept. “You said something about a dwarf citadel nearby. Have you ever visited it?”
Manetho shook his head, “The desert between the Black Horsemen and the dwarf city of Temin has a number of tribes hostile to us. We raid upon Temin now and again and steal fine iron weapons crafted by the dwarves but I have never visited the nation itself. It is said to be entirely underground, in the mountain. I cannot imagine such a life away from sun, sand, and wind. It is not in the nature of a nomad to sleep without stars overhead.”
“So you’ve never seen a dwarf before us?”
“No, not at all,” said Manetho with a shake of his head and a broad smile. “Dwarf caravans are allowed passage through the desert if they pay part of their goods to the various tribal boundaries they cross. We are on relatively good terms with the dwarves of Temin and they provide us with many of our weapons and horseshoes. They are wizards with iron and steel. The desert provides sustenance for many of the needs of a warrior nomad but iron is in short supply.”
“Are there no hills in all the sands? No rocky outcroppings?”
“Such places are not uncommon,” said Manetho as he ran his fingers along his bald head. “Even here in the territories of the Black Horsemen, but we nomads do not like to linger long in one place. It is in our nature to roam, to ride, and to slay our enemies. No foreign army has ever conquered the nomads.”
“I believe you,” said Brogus and nodded his own head with his lips pressed tightly together. “I can’t imagine the difficulty of an invasion of this desert. But surely with constant war between you and the other nomads there must be changes in territory?”
“Oh yes,” said Manetho and smiled broadly. “It must be the same with you in your underground warrens as well. The darklings I think you called them. Your armies must take land from them and they fight to take it back. It is an endless dance. A way to train warriors.”
“I’m a metal smith apprentice,” said Brogus with a shrug of his shoulders. “I know little of the way of war although there are warriors among my people. The darklings attack often. They need prisoners for sacrifice to their evil gods.”
“What are you two talking about,” said Dol as he suddenly appeared at the tent flap, his eyes still slightly groggy from his sleep.
“I’m glad you are up,” said Manetho with a look at the tall dwarf, his raised eyes spotting a fresh apple blossoming bright green and no bigger than a marble used by the children to play their gambling games. “I see that you did not lie about your heritage,” went on the nomad wizard and pointed towards Dol’s hair.
Dol’s hand went to the apple immediately; he took it between his finger and thumb, gave a swift yank, grimaced, and then examined it closely. It was typical of the little sour apples that had plagued his life since adolescence. “I had hoped that the desert climate would kill the things once and for all,” he said with a frown on his face as he examined it.
“Might I see it?” said Manetho his eyes gazing towards the little fruit with a look of eagerness. “I’ve never heard of a cross between a tree shepherd and a dwarf. I wonder if it has any magical properties. There is certainly enchantment about it.”
Dol shrugged and handed over the apple, “Why are you glad to see me awake?”
Manetho turned the thing over in his hand a few times with his eyes locked on it. After a few seconds of silence he looked up at Dol who had the look of someone waiting for an answer on his face, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Why did you come to visit us this morning?” said Dol quietly but somehow with menace.
“Ah, yes,” said the wizard, oblivious to the bubbling anger, and again looked down at the little apple in his hand. “This is fascinating, most interesting indeed. Can I keep it? Perform a few experiments?”
Dol nodded his head but said nothing.
“That is most generous of you,” said Manetho gazing at the little apple. “Most generous indeed.”
“Your visit?” said Dol with a slight hint of impatient in his voice.
“Oh, yes, I’m here to invite you to ride with the Black Rider. He is leaving the city for a meeting with one of the other tribes. He wishes to speak with you and your friends further about this northern general and his plans of conquest. I tried to explain that you were merely visitors to our region but the Black Rider has the fate of our people in his hands and you must understand his desire for further information. Perhaps you learned something that might be useful to my people and you don’t even realize it.”
“I don’t like riding,” said Brogus, eyes wide with fear and mouth agape. “Those horses are dangerous.”
“You will accompany the Black Rider,” said Manetho with a shake of his head. “It is considered quite an honor. He is very busy man these days with our many alliances. I’d guess he wants the chance to talk with you as soon as possible. This meeting with the Jagged Edge nomads was scheduled many months ago and cannot be delayed.”
“How does he ride during the day?” said Dol his eyes carefully looking to judge the bald nomad’s reaction. “He is a darkling and they have a notorious weakness to direct sunlight.”
“He has special gear that covers him from head to toe to keep off the sunlight,” said Manetho, still swirling the apple in his hand. “But there is no time for me to explain. We must gather the women and get you mounted on your horses for the journey.” With that statement the nomad put the little apple in one of his many pockets and immediately walked off at a brisk pace. Dol and Brogus were left to follow behind.
It took them merely five minutes to get to the tent where the girls awaited them. Milli’s face broke into a huge smile as she saw their approach, and she rushed over to give Dol a big hug. “Have you heard? We get to ride again. Isn’t that grand?”
“No,” said Brogus with a frown as he watched Milli’s obvious delight with incomprehension. “I’d rather stay here.”
“I think that might be possible,” said the quiet voice of Tahnoon as the massively fat nomad appeared from around the corner of the tent with a broad smile. “I enjoyed our conversation greatly yesterday evening and I’d like to renew it today while the others are away. The meeting with the Jagged Edge nomad shouldn’t take more than a day or two, and I don’t think your companions would suffer too great a hurt if you were to stay here in the encampment.”
“That sounds great…,” started Brogus but Milli immediately interposed her little body between the two.
“No,” she said and shook her head vigorously. “We stay together. Besides, Sheikh Ming might have some questions only Brogus can answer. He knows the most about the army.”
“I do not,” said Brogus and frowned. “I’m just…
“Shut up, Brogus,” interrupted Milli as she gave him an elbow to the ribs. “We stay together.”
Brogus lowered his head and muttered something under his breath but said no more aloud.
“Well, that’s settled then,” said Manetho with a turn towards Tahnoon, “I hope you’ll have a chance to talk with Tahnoon when you return but, who knows, we might be ready to send you along to your destination if the Black Rider signals his approval. I wish you could stay at least until I finish my experiments,” he continued as his hand went to his pocket and he fingered the round apple within.
“Experiments?” asked Milli and turned to the bald nomad.
“You’re friend was kind enough to loan me one of the apples that grow in his hair,” said Manetho. “Actually,” he looked more closely at the tall dwarf, “he actually seems to have sprouted a bumper crop. Perhaps it is life-giving blessing of Ras shining down in such abundance?”
Dol’s hand went to his hair and he felt half a dozen or more of the little round apples in various states of growth.
“You are really sprouting,” said Milli with a smile as she watched her friend. “It’s probably the change in climate or something,” she continued and put her arm around his waist. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Come along, I’ll take you to the horses,” said Manetho with another bow.
“Do we get the same ones as before?” said Milli, her eyes darting back and forth looking for the horses.
“Of course,” said Tahnoon. “They are fine geldings, bred especially for visitors.”
“What’s a gelding,” said Brogus with a puzzled expression on his face at the unfamiliar word. Usually the translator device worked flawlessly.
“A male horse than cannot breed,” replied the nomad. “They are more docile and if a stranger should ever steal one then the bloodline cannot be taken to our enemies.”
“Your horses are that much superior to the other nomad’s steeds?” asked Petra her eyes keen to watch the nomad’s reactions.
Tahnoon thought for a moment with his hand on his fat belly and then nodded his head, “Not other nomads so much as people outside the desert who want our horses for their own. Kings and princes and military leaders from many nations. Our horses are coveted by all who know them and I would imagine Corancil himself wouldn’t mind getting his hands on a few score to help his invasion plans.”
Petra smiled, “I would imagine so.”
“Here we are,” said Tahnoon as they arrived at an area well to the north of the main encampment where dozens of nomads watched over an open patch of well trampled dirt and scrabbly grass where dozens of horses galloped and played. He shouted something towards the nomads and within a few minutes the group found themselves reunited with their steeds from their earlier ride across the desert. “Manetho and I will ride with you out to the Broken Pyramid and there you will meet the Black Rider and discuss matters. After that he will continue his journey to the conference with the Jagged Edge nomads.”
“The Broken Pyramid,” said Milli as she stroked the long, muscled neck of her horse. “What’s that?”
Manetho and Tahnoon mounted their own horses and the group, Brogus with a leg up from another nomad, mounted theirs as well, “A pyramid not far from here that dates back to the Age of Elementals. We often use it as a rallying point. There are not that many landmarks here in the desert and such places are useful for gathering men,” said Manetho with a flourishing wave of his hand out towards the desert.
“The Age of Elementals,” said Dol, now suddenly quite interested as he used his reins to turn the horse and face Manetho. “What do you know about that time?”
Manetho looked at the tall dwarf with the apples, “I’m surprised such a thing interests you, my friend.”
Dol nodded his head, “It interests me greatly and has to do with our quest to the south. I ask again,” this time with a sharp edge to his voice, “what do you know about the Age of Elementals?”
Manetho shrugged his shoulders as the horses set off at a canter, “It was thousands of years ago but the desert preserves time more surely than the grassy plains. The elementals shaped the earth for untold generations but eventually were overthrown by an alliance of tree shepherds, dwarves, men, elves, and the other races. Their relics remain all over the world and many of the creatures still serve, spellbound, their conquerors.”
“And the greatest of elementals, the most ancient four. Do you know them?” asked Dol.
“We know mainly of those of fire here in the desert, the great first elemental Gazadum, his first-born son Shadak the Black Fire, the twins Hezfer the Blue Flame and Eleniak the Dancing Flame, the terrible Mountainous Fire Loigor, and there are others of course.”
“Gazadum, the first fire elemental,” said Dol and fingered the hammer at his side, “what do you know of him?”
The horses covered the dry lands of the Sands with breathtaking speed even moving along as casually as they did now. The thundering of their hooves on the hard sand and dirt drowned out the sounds around them and the nomad had to raise his voice to be heard, “He was the first.”
“I know that,” said Dol and narrowed his eyes. “What else?”
“Don’t be rude,” said Milli as she skillfully maneuvered her horse next to the dwarf, “are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine,” shouted Dol and then turned back to Manetho. “Tell me everything you know about Gazadum.”
Manetho looked at Dol out of the corner of his eye and then waved one hand in sort of a circular movement. “That was thousands of years ago, my friend. I know he was the first and most powerful of the fire elementals. That with his three siblings they shaped the world. He supposedly lived in a volcano in the far northern realms but was driven out by the tree shepherds and their allies. Does this have something to do with why you’re looking for five volcanoes?”
Dol nodded his head and fixed his steely eyes to the horizon, “It does.”
“Dol,” said Milli trying to put warning in her voice.
“Shut up, Milli,” said Dol with a fierce look at the halfling girl. His eyes had a reddish tint and his lips were curled in a snarl. “It doesn’t make any difference if he knows my mission.”
“Our mission,” shouted Brogus from not far away as he held onto the reins with both hands with white knuckled intensity.
“My mission,” said Dol. “I seek Gazadum,” he went on and took the handle of the Hammer of Fire in one hand and held it at eye level. “To destroy him.”
Manetho raised his eyebrows, tilted his head to one side, “I wish you luck with that.” Then the nomad pointed his finger towards an object in the distance that seemed to waver back and forth in the waves of heat. The horses hooves continued their rhythmic beat as the shape began to coalesce into something their eyes could understand and within minutes they approached the massive pyramid.
Its height was difficult to judge but Milli thought it might just fit into the Grand Hall of Craggen Steep whose ceilings measured nearly two hundred feet in height. The strange structure was possibly even wider than that at the base. The sides were sand-blasted stone and apparently smooth although as they approached, the weather-beaten nature of the structure came into clarity. The most striking feature was a long rent that started near the top of the pyramid and wound down the side they approached before it disappeared around the corner. It seemed likely the crack extended further down the side of the mammoth structure that faced away from them.
“It’s massive,” said Brogus as all the horses stopped although his went a few strides further before he remembered to pull back on the reins. The short-legged dwarf tried to dismount gracefully but only managed to fall out of the saddle and onto the ground with a thump.
“I thought the Black Rider was supposed to meet us here,” said Petra looking around at the absence of horsemen in the vicinity. Her hand went to the little knife at her side but the only nomads in evidence were Manetho and Tahnoon and she doubted they would attempt to attack them. Her eyes darted back and forth but she could see nothing of anyone else.
“Apparently he was delayed,” said Manetho with a shrug of his shoulders. “Many people demand his time and circumstances arise that make his schedule unpredictable. I’m certain he will be along shortly. In the meantime, perhaps you would care to examine the pyramid, although I see your friend has already begun that process.”
“I will go and find them,” said Tahnoon with a strange look at Manetho that Petra could not decipher. With that he spurred his horse and it rattled off into the desert soon disappearing in the waves of heat that shimmered in all directions.
Brogus stood at the side of the great stone structure and ran his hand along its surface, leaned in close and smelled it, and then licked his finger. “Good work here,” he said. “Fine craftsmanship. It reminds me of the old parts of Craggen Steep but weathered for many centuries.”
“Earth elementals then?” said Dol as he too approached the side of the tremendous structure.
“Or dwarves,” said Brogus with a smile. “Not goblins or elves. Too bad we don’t have our climbing gear,” he continued and chucked Dol on the shoulder. “Pitons, carabineers, quickdraws, and rope and we’d be up to the top in no time. I’d bet there are a dozen hidden chambers in there as well. We’d have to ascend to that big crack and do some digging. Who knows how much debris has piled up in there over th years. Think if some of the stone masters from back in Craggen Steep were here. What treasure they’d find? We have to remember this place, Dol. This world… this world is much bigger than I ever dreamed. I see it now for the first time. I see how we’re trapped in our city, held back by ancient laws, kept from exploring the world, using our wealth, our power.”
Dol nodded his head as he touched the surface of the stone, “All this may be true, my friend, but this is the work of earth elementals, not fire, and is not my concern.”
Brogus looked at Dol with a frown and shook his head from side to side, “You love masonry, this is ancient work, elemental work, we could spend months here.”
“I don’t love it anymore,” said Dol with a shake of his head, turned away from the ancient stones, and walked back towards the group. He knew the stonework should interest him and one part of him wanted to explore the pyramid and learn its secrets but somehow he found himself bored by the stones. His hand went back to the hammer and began to gently caress the smooth, white handle covered by strange elven runes.
“Your friend,” said Manetho to Petra and Milli with a nod of his hat head towards Dol, “has what we in the desert call a Holy See, a quest, a calling from the gods. I see now what drives you.”
“He,” said Milli with a little turn-down of her lips, “he wasn’t always like this. He’s changed.”
“We suspected you were spies,” said Manetho and pulled off his hat to wipe his sweaty head with a thick rag that he carried for just this purpose. “We planned to interrogate you and kill you after we learned all we knew.”
Milli turned to him and gazed with strong, steady eyes, “I suspected… well, Petra suspected. Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know now it is not true. You are not spies. You may have come from the north, possibly you promised Corancil you would learn what you could of us, but you are not here to spy. You are here for your quest; you are driven by the gods.”
“Does this mean you won’t have us killed?” said Petra as she staggered over to join the conversation. The heat was too much for the older woman and her breath came in heavy pants as she sat down with a thump on a large rock. It looked of the same material as the pyramid itself, perhaps a left-over stone from the time of construction; it was rounded from centuries of weathering although there were hints that at one time it was square.
“It means I will tell the Black Rider what I now know,” said Manetho and wiped his brow and the top of his head again, then looked at Petra and his eyes went soft. “The desert is harsh for strangers. Your skin, your lungs, they are unused to the conditions. We must get you into the shade. Come, Petra. Let’s us walk to the west side of the pyramid where it is cooler.”
“Thank you, Manetho,” said Petra with a little smile as she put down a hand, unsteadily got to her feet, and began to walk with the nomad. “What decision will the Black Rider make about our future?”
Manetho said nothing as the three made their way into the long, morning shadow cast by the pyramid. Dol stood aloof looking at the shimmering heat waves on the horizon while Brogus continued looking at the heavy stones of the Broken Pyramid. Even in the shade it was hotter than a normal summer day in the north but at least it seemed cool in comparison to the direct sunlight, and the nomadic clothes they wore somehow seemed to allow the breeze in but kept the sun off at the same time. Only when they reached the shade and sat down on a group of stone rocks apparently built exactly for that purpose did Manetho speak again, “I cannot say what the Black Rider will decide, but I see no reason for him to order your execution. He is a reasonable man… when left to make his own decision.”
“Great,” said Milli with a broad smile that showed her brilliant white teeth to their best advantage.
“You said if he is allowed to make his own decision,” said Petra not willing to forego the topic. “Who else would decide for him?”
Manetho shrugged and looked at his feet.
“Tahnoon?” said Petra persisting.
“The vizier has great influence with Sheikh Ming,” said Manetho although he continued to look down. “When Ming emerged from the darkling lands he was badly wounded, nigh onto death. It was Tahnoon and his family that saved him from instant execution as a darkling. He nursed Ming back to health, gave him a position in his tribal family. There is a strong bond there that cannot be easily broken.”
“And you think Tahnoon might prefer to execute us?” said Milli her yellow eyes narrow and gazing at the man intently.
“I’ve known the vizier for over twenty years,” said Manetho as he leaned back on the stone and gazed at the blue sky. “The desert is a predictable land. It rains at the same time every year. The great migrations occur at the same time every year and the predators fill their bellies on this cycle.”
“The vizier is also predictable,” said Petra and leaned forward to listen closely to the wizard’s words.
“He is.”
“And what do you predict?” asked the witch woman.
Manetho shrugged again, mopped his brow and his head, and then looked at the old woman in the eyes, “I suggest you ride your horses as quickly as possible to the south.”
“You’ll not stop us?” she said as Milli watched with wide eyes and a half-open mouth.
“I’ll even provide a map,” suddenly smiling as he came to a decision. “I think you’ve appeared here for a reason. Perhaps only Ras knows the reason but I do not think it is a coincidence. I will help you today and I hope that you will remember me on some day that will come.”
“I don’t see how we’ll ever be in position to help you,” said Milli with a smile although she shook her head, “but, that being said, if I can help you sometime in the future then I will.”
Manetho nodded his own bald head and smiled with slightly upturned lips. “Ride south until you reach a river, it is called the Low River and it will be merely a trickle at this time of year. Turn directly west from there and ride as hard and straight as you can. You’ll pass the territories of the Fire Riders or perhaps, the Horns of the Minotaur. They are fierce tribes both but have tenuous alliances with the Black Rider. I will give you papers to show them and perhaps they will let you pass. Eventually you will reach a tall mountain range, The Desert’s End Mountains. Of course, the people that live beyond call it them the Desert’s Beginning but that is merely a matter of semantics. The dwarves of Temin live in the mountains and guard its passes fiercely. However, I think your friends might find allies that will guide you south to the grasslands of Shandoria. That is the volcanic land although I do not know if your five volcanoes are there or not. It is all that I can offer.”
“How long will it take us to get to the mountains?” said Petra. “Do we have enough supplies on the horses?”
“You are strangers and your animals were not well stocked I’m afraid to say. However, there are supplies hidden in the pyramid and we can use them to equip you for the journey. The water of the Low River will be murky this time of year but it is not toxic. Let us begin at once; there is no telling when the Black Rider and Tahnoon will arrive.”