Chapter 1: The Sands of Sorrow-Part 1-

The Cheytagaroth Empire died with the thunder and left her ruins to languish for centuries.  Her cities had long since become playthings of time to be buried by sand and excavated by wind.  Over and over the hourglass tide washed the dead shore.  Mighty Cheytagaroth was dead and gone, her soldiers very skeletons ground to dust and mingled with the wild breezes. All that remained was her cities, her magnificent cities, still reaching for the heavens.  The ruinous tombs of a nation left standing in once fertile fields that had long ago devolved into deserts and hungry dunes.  When the wind blew just right the sands parted and the palace of the old Sorcerates was revealed for a time, or perhaps centuries dried Aquiary of Venoms, or the famous statue of Dekandis the Wicked.  Only briefly did these ancient structures emerge from the ever changing sea of sand.  All things were eventually re‑shrouded in grit and hidden again from the eyes of the sun.

It was across this wasteland, where every footstep trod upon the buried history of a long dead people, that Dhalryk Morvellum and Jekka DuRell traveled.  Burdened and horseless they walked onward, mouths shut to avoid the heat that could evaporate water straight from their tongues. Dhalryk looked ahead, eyes straining against the heat distortion and brutal glare.  He looked at Jekka and pointed ahead.  She nodded and they continued.  Ahead lay the top of a tower, buried in the sands save for the last few floors.  Slowly, with tired legs dragging, they made their way to it.  The dune that engulfed the tower was angled and, although the tower was straight, the strange tilt of the ground made it appear to lean awkwardly to the left.  They reached its base and moved into the first shade they'd felt since sunrise.

They sat panting for a while, enjoying the feeling of coolness on their skin.   Jekka's voice cracked when she spoke.  "Can you feel it?"

  

Dhalryk nodded and uncorked a bottle of water.  He took a small drink, rolled it around in his mouth, swallowed, and replied.  "Yes, I can."  He offered Jekka the bottle and she repeated his actions for herself.

  

"Do you think they feel it too?"

Dhalryk nodded.  "I'm sure.  Probably better than we do."  Jekka squinted up at the tower and un‑slung her pack to remove a rope and grapple.

"Then we've little time to spare."

Dhalryk nodded, put the water away and watched her deftly fasten a line to the roof balcony.  Together they hauled their tired bodies up the rope and into the long abandoned Citadel of Keeping.

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To be Continued in Chapter 1: The Sands of Sorrow - Part 2