On A Knife Edge

Chapter 12: Desolation

The unforgiving desert sun beat down on them with the relentless fury of a hammer blow. The air shimmered with heat, distorting the horizon into a shimmering mirage. Each footfall on the scorching sand felt like stepping onto a bed of hot coals through their boots. Sweat, slick and salty, beaded on their brows and trickled down their faces, leaving trails in the dust that caked their skin.

Despite their water bladders constantly at hand, a persistent thirst clawed at their throats. Rory grumbled the most, his normally booming voice reduced to a hoarse rasp. Even Lucian felt his lips crack and his tongue swell. They resorted to rationing their water intake further, a decision that left a constant, nagging dryness in their mouths.

The landscape itself was a monotonous assault on the senses. Endless dunes of ochre sand stretched out in all directions, their peaks sculpted by relentless winds into sinuous curves. There were rocky outcrops dotted all over the desert almost as if the sand was not normal and placed here on top of a rocky range. The silence was broken only by the sighing whisper of the desert wind and the occasional mournful cry of a scavenger bird circling high above.

Navigation was a constant challenge. The map Elara had provided turned out to be more of a suggestion than a definitive guide. The dotted line leading to the Sunken Temple meandered across a vast expanse of blank space labeled simply "The Desolation." With a healthy dose of skepticism, they relied on the map's cryptic markings and the position of the sun to steer their course.

As they marched through over another sand dune a sight broke the monotony of the endless sand. In the distance, a jagged range of mountains rose from the flat expanse, their peaks clawing at the merciless setting sun.

"See those mountains?" Lucian pointed.

"Yeah so what?" Rance retorted.

"Look here." Lucian pointed at the map. Desolation is completely hemmed in by mountains. The fact that we can see those mountains and..." Lucian turned and pointed behind them, "... and the mountains we came from means we are somewhere in the middle."

"And..." Rory questioned.

"The Sunken temple markings are in the middle of the map!" Kainith exclaimed.

"Exactly! Now we need to trek a little more north I think to try and head even more central." Lucian pointed.

The party shifted their direction and started heading more north into the desert. But as they drew closer, the treacherous nature of the desert revealed itself once more. The solid ground beneath their feet shifted, the sand giving way in patches as they walked. A low tremor vibrated through the earth, sending shivers down their spines. Rory, his hand instinctively tightening around the shaft of his great axe, squinted towards the horizon.

"Did you feel that?" he rasped, his voice laced with a newfound urgency.

Lucian exchanged a worried glance with Kainith.

"I guess that short and stubby swirl on the map near the temple makes more sense now." Kainith stated.

"The swirl was near the Temple?' Rance asked.

"Yes. That means we are close." Lucian said. "I would prepare yourselves though."

The tremor grew in intensity, a low rumble that resonated through their bones. The once-placid dunes around them began to ripple and churn, sand cascading down the slopes in miniature avalanches. Panic surged through Rory, a primal fear taking hold.

"Sandworm!" he roared, his voice tinged with desperation. "We gotta get outta here!"

Lucian remained calm despite the rising tide of sand. "Scatter! Head for the rocky outcrops!" he shouted, already sprinting towards a cluster of smoothed boulders jutting from the dunes in the distance.