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Description
It didn’t take long to get back to the road; the town wasn’t nearly as isolated as it appeared to have been from the inside. When they reached it, Oliver rode up beside Who. “So, then,” he asked, smiling, “where exactly are you all going?”

“Well, we’re headed to the desert,” Who said. “We’re trying to get to Frisit as soon as possible. What about you?”

Oliver laughed. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, m’boy,” he said. “Lithensill still needs a doctor, after all. I only came with you this far to see you out of the marsh.”

Rashe smiled. “That’s Oli for you, always looking out for the needy.”

“It was great seeing you again, Oliver,” Wile said. “You really helped us out.”

“Oh, bosh,” Oliver said, waving his hand, “it was nothing at all. What a doctor do other than cure the sick?” He turned his horse back to the marsh. “Lovely seeing you all again, and best of luck getting to Frisit!”

“Bye, Doc!” Ridsen called, waving to Oliver as he rode back into the misty nothingness toward the exorcised town.

~

The last of the fort-towns was called Fort Brash. The road through it veered west, away from the lake, and would run straight into the Renzad desert, where the next town was Frisit, which was several days’ riding away. The travelers stopped there to restock before their long journey into the sandy barrens.

While there, as Who heard after the fact, Wile and Rashe were taking a walk around the town (Who could guess why) and they ran into a man being robbed in an alley. They chased off the robbers, and the man was so grateful that he gave them a small stone disk on a chain that was engraved with a two-line poem. He told them that if one of them wore it, they would be protected from any danger by an ancient power that watched over the desert.

Yeah, right, Who thought, after the two got back and told their story, but he was curious. He examined the small charm, and found that the poem engraved on it was written in an odd language. The poem ran thusly:

Erta rin z'enar wen
An-Salaar norat iren

Who’s interest spiked at the word “An-Salaar.” Who wrote this? he wondered. And what does it mean? He asked Wile about it, remembering he was a translator, who admitted that he had absolutely no idea what language was used in writing it, though he had heard from legends that “An-Salaar” was from an old, defunct language from the pre-union Renzad, and meant “the fist of life.” However, he stressed, that was only a legend.

Who looked back at the charm in his hand. Well, why not? he asked himself silently. Legends have been working out well for me lately. He put the chain around his neck.

~

The next morning the five travelers set themselves on the road west out of Fort Brash. It took a while for the shrubbery and grass that thrived from the lake-supported groundwater to change to dry, shriveled-looking sprigs clawing out of hard ground, and by the time the sun met the opposite horizon there were no plants at all; they had reached the desert.

They made camp off the road, in a small overhang of rock ground smooth by the flying sand and leading into a small cave that curved into the ground. Temeron had thought to bring kindling and wood, and soon they had a good fire going. As the travelers sat around the small fire in the deepening twilight, chewing on bread and dried meat, Who looked out of the small cave at the dunes rising up to the west, just hiding the red sun as it shrank away from the coming night sky. The enormity of the desert sank in overwhelmingly.

“How in the world are we going to find a mask out here?” he asked nobody in particular, turning around to the fire again.

“We found Colossus, didn’t we?” Wile said, after swallowing. “We can find it.”

Who nodded, not entirely convinced, and looked back out west toward the lowering sun.

Just then, as he was turning, he spotted a line of black rise up and over one of the sandy hills, disappearing behind another just a second after.

Who, surprised, stared at the spot where the fleeting shade had appeared. Nothing else was moving, and there was no sound in the air. There was no indication that anything was moving within ten miles.

“What’s up, Who?” Rashe asked, noticing that he was staring into space.

Who continued to stare, but seeing nothing, shook his head, resolved that he was just seeing things. “Nothing,” he said. “Just thought I saw—“

Before he could finish his sentence, it appeared again; not as far from the horizon this time, and the tiniest bit larger. It rose up over a hill, hovered for a second, then ducked back out of view again.

“There!” Who said, pointing to the spot where he had seen it. “Did you see it?” He stood up and walked slowly out of the cave, as the others stood up behind him.

He looked hard at the sandy hills. There was still no sound at all coming across the dunes.

Suddenly the shade appeared again, much closer, and Who could finally see what it was; horses. Dozens of black horses, riding parallel across the desert toward the travelers.

“Shit!” Temeron said, spotting them as well. “Bandits! Get back in the cave!”

Who turned quickly and ran back under the rocky outcropping, crawling out of sight into the cave along with the others as the sounds of the bandits’ horses finally started to filter through the dry air.

Who didn’t move a muscle as the bandits cleared the closest hill to the cave and barreled down it, slowing as they approached the travelers’ horses tied up in front of the cave. They were close enough that Who could see that they wore dark scarves over their heads and necks, and thick tinted goggles over their eyes.

One of them got off his horse and went over to the travelers’ horses, rummaging through the sacks on their sides. The bandit laughed and turned to the others, waiting on their horses. “Jackpot, men!” he said, as he pulled out Who’s diamond sword.

The other bandits cheered, and a few leapt off their horses and ran over to the treasure to grab a piece for themselves. Who watched with growing anger as they tore into the horses’ bags, pulling out the travelers’ supplies, money, and food. He saw his sword get passed around the group as the thieves admired it.

I’ve got to stop this, his mind firmly told him.

Who started to get up. Ridsen grabbed his shoulder, shaking his head in warning, but Who shook it off and stood up, running out of the cave straight for the bandit holding his sword.

He exhaled as he jumped forcefully forward, his leg outstretched.

The bandit never saw it coming. Who’s sole hit him square in the back of his head. He went flying, dead before he hit the ground. Who landed, sliding, on the sand, grabbing his sword as he did and readying it for defense as he stood up to face the rest of them.

It wasn’t until then that he saw the rest of the bandits.

They had been out of view from the cave, but he could now see that he was faced by at least a hundred of them, as every one of them pulled out a sword and started to run at him.

Who froze. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by surprise at the shivering mass of blades, lifted to reflect the red sunlight of the desert; a hypnotizing red flame of steel burning across the sand toward him, their movement seeming to incite an ominous wind through the sand-filled air.

He remembered in a flash of terror Wolf’s Howl’s mention that while wounds would heal, dismemberment was permanent.

I’m not going to be able to take them, Who thought. I can’t. Not all at once.

Who’s attention wavered from the incoming peril as he felt the wind pick up, to a level that at first seemed improbable, then quickly turned into unnatural as he found himself struggling to stay on his feet.

The bandit mob, which had gotten within mere seconds away from Who, suddenly and completely halted, terror filling their eyes as they stared past Who, then abruptly turned and began to flee.

Who looked over his shoulder. What he beheld was nothing less than a wall of sand rocketing madly across the desert, straight toward him.

Panicked, Who dropped to the ground just as the sand reached him. He could feel it scraping the tops of his hands as he covered his neck, and there was a sound akin to a swarm of bees filling the air around him.

The storm seemed to last forever; Who’s knuckles were raw and stinging from the blasting sand the entire time, but he kept his masked face buried in the sand.

Then, as suddenly as it had came, the wind stopped. Who looked up; he was covered in sand, but unhurt. As he stood up and shook the sand off himself, he noticed a large patch of black and red on the sand in the distance. He looked closer and saw that it was a pile of bodies; the bandits.

Who stared at the corpses for a while. What was that storm? he thought. That couldn’t have been natural. And those bodies…did the storm kill them? How?

As Who straightened up, he felt something heavy on his chest.

The small disk, Who remembered. The man in the alley said it would protect us.

But…

“Who!” Rashe’s voice cried. Who turned toward it and saw her and the other travelers standing at the mouth of the cave.

“You all right, No-Face?” Ridsen called.

Who nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “It’s clear out here.”

The travelers jogged out to Who. “You’ve got to be careful,” Temeron said as he was running. “Those sandstorms can suffocate people.”

“Where’d those bandits go?” Wile asked. “We saw you drop, and then they were just gone.”

Who looked out toward the pile of bodies and nodded. “There,” he said.

The rest of the travelers looked, and immediately their eyes widened. Rashe looked away.

“Holy shit,” Ridsen said, “what happened there?”

“I don’t know,” Temeron said. He started to walk toward the bodies. “We should at least get our stuff back, though.”

“Yeah, good thinking,” Ridsen said, following him. He looked back and waved. “C’mon, you three.”

Who followed after Ridsen; Rashe, still shaken, agreed to walk over as well as long as she could hold Wile’s hand.

Description
It didn’t take long to get back to the road; the town wasn’t nearly as isolated as it appeared to have been from the inside. When they reached it, Oliver rode up beside Who. “So, then,” he asked, smiling, “where exactly are you all going?”

“Well, we’re headed to the desert,” Who said. “We’re trying to get to Frisit as soon as possible. What about you?”

Oliver laughed. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, m’boy,” he said. “Lithensill still needs a doctor, after all. I only came with you this far to see you out of the marsh.”

Rashe smiled. “That’s Oli for you, always looking out for the needy.”

“It was great seeing you again, Oliver,” Wile said. “You really helped us out.”

“Oh, bosh,” Oliver said, waving his hand, “it was nothing at all. What a doctor do other than cure the sick?” He turned his horse back to the marsh. “Lovely seeing you all again, and best of luck getting to Frisit!”

“Bye, Doc!” Ridsen called, waving to Oliver as he rode back into the misty nothingness toward the exorcised town.

~

The last of the fort-towns was called Fort Brash. The road through it veered west, away from the lake, and would run straight into the Renzad desert, where the next town was Frisit, which was several days’ riding away. The travelers stopped there to restock before their long journey into the sandy barrens.

While there, as Who heard after the fact, Wile and Rashe were taking a walk around the town (Who could guess why) and they ran into a man being robbed in an alley. They chased off the robbers, and the man was so grateful that he gave them a small stone disk on a chain that was engraved with a two-line poem. He told them that if one of them wore it, they would be protected from any danger by an ancient power that watched over the desert.

Yeah, right, Who thought, after the two got back and told their story, but he was curious. He examined the small charm, and found that the poem engraved on it was written in an odd language. The poem ran thusly:

Erta rin z'enar wen
An-Salaar norat iren

Who’s interest spiked at the word “An-Salaar.” Who wrote this? he wondered. And what does it mean? He asked Wile about it, remembering he was a translator, who admitted that he had absolutely no idea what language was used in writing it, though he had heard from legends that “An-Salaar” was from an old, defunct language from the pre-union Renzad, and meant “the fist of life.” However, he stressed, that was only a legend.

Who looked back at the charm in his hand. Well, why not? he asked himself silently. Legends have been working out well for me lately. He put the chain around his neck.

~

The next morning the five travelers set themselves on the road west out of Fort Brash. It took a while for the shrubbery and grass that thrived from the lake-supported groundwater to change to dry, shriveled-looking sprigs clawing out of hard ground, and by the time the sun met the opposite horizon there were no plants at all; they had reached the desert.

They made camp off the road, in a small overhang of rock ground smooth by the flying sand and leading into a small cave that curved into the ground. Temeron had thought to bring kindling and wood, and soon they had a good fire going. As the travelers sat around the small fire in the deepening twilight, chewing on bread and dried meat, Who looked out of the small cave at the dunes rising up to the west, just hiding the red sun as it shrank away from the coming night sky. The enormity of the desert sank in overwhelmingly.

“How in the world are we going to find a mask out here?” he asked nobody in particular, turning around to the fire again.

“We found Colossus, didn’t we?” Wile said, after swallowing. “We can find it.”

Who nodded, not entirely convinced, and looked back out west toward the lowering sun.

Just then, as he was turning, he spotted a line of black rise up and over one of the sandy hills, disappearing behind another just a second after.

Who, surprised, stared at the spot where the fleeting shade had appeared. Nothing else was moving, and there was no sound in the air. There was no indication that anything was moving within ten miles.

“What’s up, Who?” Rashe asked, noticing that he was staring into space.

Who continued to stare, but seeing nothing, shook his head, resolved that he was just seeing things. “Nothing,” he said. “Just thought I saw—“

Before he could finish his sentence, it appeared again; not as far from the horizon this time, and the tiniest bit larger. It rose up over a hill, hovered for a second, then ducked back out of view again.

“There!” Who said, pointing to the spot where he had seen it. “Did you see it?” He stood up and walked slowly out of the cave, as the others stood up behind him.

He looked hard at the sandy hills. There was still no sound at all coming across the dunes.

Suddenly the shade appeared again, much closer, and Who could finally see what it was; horses. Dozens of black horses, riding parallel across the desert toward the travelers.

“Shit!” Temeron said, spotting them as well. “Bandits! Get back in the cave!”

Who turned quickly and ran back under the rocky outcropping, crawling out of sight into the cave along with the others as the sounds of the bandits’ horses finally started to filter through the dry air.

Who didn’t move a muscle as the bandits cleared the closest hill to the cave and barreled down it, slowing as they approached the travelers’ horses tied up in front of the cave. They were close enough that Who could see that they wore dark scarves over their heads and necks, and thick tinted goggles over their eyes.

One of them got off his horse and went over to the travelers’ horses, rummaging through the sacks on their sides. The bandit laughed and turned to the others, waiting on their horses. “Jackpot, men!” he said, as he pulled out Who’s diamond sword.

The other bandits cheered, and a few leapt off their horses and ran over to the treasure to grab a piece for themselves. Who watched with growing anger as they tore into the horses’ bags, pulling out the travelers’ supplies, money, and food. He saw his sword get passed around the group as the thieves admired it.

I’ve got to stop this, his mind firmly told him.

Who started to get up. Ridsen grabbed his shoulder, shaking his head in warning, but Who shook it off and stood up, running out of the cave straight for the bandit holding his sword.

He exhaled as he jumped forcefully forward, his leg outstretched.

The bandit never saw it coming. Who’s sole hit him square in the back of his head. He went flying, dead before he hit the ground. Who landed, sliding, on the sand, grabbing his sword as he did and readying it for defense as he stood up to face the rest of them.

It wasn’t until then that he saw the rest of the bandits.

They had been out of view from the cave, but he could now see that he was faced by at least a hundred of them, as every one of them pulled out a sword and started to run at him.

Who froze. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by surprise at the shivering mass of blades, lifted to reflect the red sunlight of the desert; a hypnotizing red flame of steel burning across the sand toward him, their movement seeming to incite an ominous wind through the sand-filled air.

He remembered in a flash of terror Wolf’s Howl’s mention that while wounds would heal, dismemberment was permanent.

I’m not going to be able to take them, Who thought. I can’t. Not all at once.

Who’s attention wavered from the incoming peril as he felt the wind pick up, to a level that at first seemed improbable, then quickly turned into unnatural as he found himself struggling to stay on his feet.

The bandit mob, which had gotten within mere seconds away from Who, suddenly and completely halted, terror filling their eyes as they stared past Who, then abruptly turned and began to flee.

Who looked over his shoulder. What he beheld was nothing less than a wall of sand rocketing madly across the desert, straight toward him.

Panicked, Who dropped to the ground just as the sand reached him. He could feel it scraping the tops of his hands as he covered his neck, and there was a sound akin to a swarm of bees filling the air around him.

The storm seemed to last forever; Who’s knuckles were raw and stinging from the blasting sand the entire time, but he kept his masked face buried in the sand.

Then, as suddenly as it had came, the wind stopped. Who looked up; he was covered in sand, but unhurt. As he stood up and shook the sand off himself, he noticed a large patch of black and red on the sand in the distance. He looked closer and saw that it was a pile of bodies; the bandits.

Who stared at the corpses for a while. What was that storm? he thought. That couldn’t have been natural. And those bodies…did the storm kill them? How?

As Who straightened up, he felt something heavy on his chest.

The small disk, Who remembered. The man in the alley said it would protect us.

But…

“Who!” Rashe’s voice cried. Who turned toward it and saw her and the other travelers standing at the mouth of the cave.

“You all right, No-Face?” Ridsen called.

Who nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “It’s clear out here.”

The travelers jogged out to Who. “You’ve got to be careful,” Temeron said as he was running. “Those sandstorms can suffocate people.”

“Where’d those bandits go?” Wile asked. “We saw you drop, and then they were just gone.”

Who looked out toward the pile of bodies and nodded. “There,” he said.

The rest of the travelers looked, and immediately their eyes widened. Rashe looked away.

“Holy shit,” Ridsen said, “what happened there?”

“I don’t know,” Temeron said. He started to walk toward the bodies. “We should at least get our stuff back, though.”

“Yeah, good thinking,” Ridsen said, following him. He looked back and waved. “C’mon, you three.”

Who followed after Ridsen; Rashe, still shaken, agreed to walk over as well as long as she could hold Wile’s hand.