In the early morning sun, two camels plodded along the dusty trade road, their splayed feet kicking up loose earth and stones with each step. The road wound northwards through dwindling trees and vanished into the scrub-lands ahead. Hard-packed earth gradually became looser until the road surface was little more than a gravel-strewn scree with only the ruts left by cartwheels to show it was still in use. The lush green trees of the forest had fallen away as the camels travelled north until they were wholly replaced by tougher, thornier kinds.

  Eirik Wilder swallowed a mouthful of water and hung his canteen from the rocking, creaking saddle beneath him. The sun had risen barely two hours ago and the first beads of sweat were already prickling his brow. With a gesture that had been involuntary he pulled up the trailing end of his headscarf and tucked it across his lower face, shielding his already tanned skin from the growing brightness.

  Riding beside him on one of the largest camels Eirik had ever seen was Ruefin Broadblade. Like Eirik, Ruefin had shed his heavy armour and swathed himself in the flowing robes of the local people. Unfortunately this had given the big man the appearance of a large laundry bundle and it had taken several days for Eirik to stop smirking about it. Coincidentally, that had been the point where they’d left the forested hills and begun their trek into the drier, rockier landscape they now traversed. The benefits of the lighter gear immediately became apparent and Eirik finally held his peace.

  The journey had started with the goal of capitalising on reported unrest in towns and villages to the northeast. Both of them were currently on a well-earned break from military service and neither of them – especially Eirik – were ready to board a ship home to Solendura.

  “I say we take a tour,” Ruefin said, waving a freshly-bought map under Eirik’s nose. “We might as well see the sights and make ourselves some extra cash along the way.”

  “What have you got in mind?” Eirik replied, one eyebrow raised. They would have plenty of time to visit Solendura and return in time for the next phase of miltary operations, but the idea of a month on a ship spewing his guts out gave him the shudders.

  Immediately spreading the map across the table, Ruefin began gesturing at the northeastern region of Divarim and jabbering excitedly.

  “I’ve heard lot of talk about insurrection and land-grabs going on in this area. I’m thinking we could head that way and check it out. There’s always money to be made when land changes hands and I’d rather do that than sit around here in Nebiris living off what little we’ve been paid so far.” Ruefin snatched up his half-empty mug of warm beer and stared at Eirik expectantly.

  The area Ruefin indicated was a semi-mountainous region where the rolling dunes of the Breskir-Hai desert gave way to a less inhospitable zone. Curiosity got the better of him and Eirik began tracing the trade roads that skirted the foothills. It would be a long journey, but he was still tempted.

  “We could follow the trade routes and avoid the desert,” he mused, peering more closely at the map, “and the watering holes along the way are all marked too. The horses will need it as much as we will.”

  “Not horses,” Ruefin interjected, “Camels. They can go miles on a sip of water and eat anything they come across.”

  A smile spread slowly across Eirik’s face and he slowly leaned back in his seat, the rank aftertaste of his shitty beer forgotten. One of the highlights of the five years he’d spent on the continent of Fenoria was the discovery of camels. Never before had he encountered a creature that could have such a vile smell and ornery nature, yet still be endearing. The idea of exploring the wilds of Divarim in the eye-watering aura of a biting, kicking demon immediately captivated him.

  Ruefin continued jabbing at the map with his stubby fingers and extolling the virtues of this road or that path, but Eirik had zoned out while considering the list of supplies they would need. Snapping back to reality, he raised a hand and cut Ruefin off.

  “You had me at ‘camels’, Ruefin,” he said and watched a grin appear on his friend’s tanned features. “I’m definitely up for a camel tour. I vote we get our admin taken care of today so we can rustle up some mounts and hit the road. I’m getting bored with Nebiris anyway.”

  “I know what you mean,” Ruefin replied, lightly tracing a stick of charcoal over their proposed route before rolling up the map and sliding it back into its case. “The taverns are too crowded, the beer is shit, and I’m tired of getting my pockets picked in the brothels.”

  “That’s what you get for being cheap,” Eirik said, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. He tossed a couple of coins onto the stained table and shouldered his backpack before heading for the door. Come on, let’s get round the market before it’s too hot to breathe.”

  Late afternoon found Eirik and Ruefin resting in the shade of a cluster of weathered trees. A light breeze blew in from the north but did little to mitigate the head. Eirik took a mouthful of warm water from his two-thirds empty canteen and winced at the grit sticking to his lips. He flapped his robe to circulate the air and glanced at the recumbent bundle of cloth that was the snoozing Ruefin. Regular snores punctuated by the occasional fart were the only evidence that the pile of clothes was a living being. The other living being were quietly pulling the tough leaves from thorny branches and whisking their tails at the flies attracted to their irresistible aroma. In honour of the smell, Eirik had named his mount ‘Lady Latrine’ and refused to allow Ruefin to mock her for being the smaller of the pair. Whether his chivalry was appreciated or not remained a mystery, since the camel’s natural expression was one of complete contempt, but Eirik felt better for making the effort. He also spared her the goad despite the salesman’s insistence that it was necessary to make the animal obey him. This seemed to have a more noticeable effect and Lady Latrine’s expression towards the replacement hand-pats was considerably softer.

  He pulled himself up and shook out his robe before wandering over to the tree currently being ravaged by the camels. Lady Latrine turned her head towards him whilst chewing aggressively and regarded him with mild disdain. A soft rumble came forth as he scratched her neck and pulled out a few burrs that clung to her dense fur.

  “We’ll be off again soon,” he said, tossing the burrs aside, “once the Lord of Flatulence has risen.”

  “I heard that, you tosser,” came a voice somewhat muffled by cloth, “and you should be grateful I smell better than those two reprobates.”

  “That’s entirely subjective,” Eirik replied, giving Latrine’s ears a final scratch before returning to gather his gear. “Anyway, the sun’s off the boil now so we should get moving. With luck we should reach the water-hole before we lose the light.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the two friends were packed, mounted, and making their way back to the road. As they continued on their way, Eirik turned his gaze back to the southwest and mentally bade farewell to the verdant tropical forest that lay behind the and braced himself for what was to come. He returned his attention to the road ahead and noted the dramatic change in the landscape. It was as if the sun had sucked the vibrancy out of the world and left a hazy, washed-out version behind. Trees and stunted bushes bore leaves of tired grey-green that clustered around tough-skinned fruit. Sharp-bladed grasses forced their way through the dry earth and defiantly fluttered in the omnipresent breeze. In the far distance the land rose and fell in low hills. Rocky escarpments were split by narrow ravines and studded with wickedly spined cacti. Bleak but somehow still beautiful, the wilds of Divarim did not disappoint and Eirik drank it all in.

  The temperature began to drop as the sun sank towards the horizon and Eirk pulled his robes closer around him in anticipation of the evening chill. Small rodents emerged from amongst the rocks and tufted vegetation in search of food and, in the darkening sky above, the nocturnal predators circled with similar intent. The whirr and click of insects began to rise and, all around, the sounds of nature rousing from slumber filled the air.

  Even with the increase in activity around them, Eirik felt that he and Ruefin remained safe on the road. He’d sensed the presence of larger predators lurking among the rocks but none had dared approach the long-legged camels. Other than a group of traders a day out of Nebiris, they’d neither encountered other people, nor had Eirik felt the sensation of eyes watching them. Over the course of his travels, Eirik had become more comfortable with his unusual gift and learned to trust himself. He’d given up trying to understand why he had it and focused on making it work to his advantage. There was comfort in knowing that, even in darkness, he would have a warning of danger.

  “Shouldn’t be far now,” Ruefin said, squinting at the map in the fading light. He gestured at a point where the road curved around a jagged outcrop. “Just around the cliff and we should be there.”

  Eirik nodded and gave Lady Latrine a nudge with his heels. With a burbling series of grunts she obligingly picked up the pace and drew Ruefin’s mount along with her. Maybe she can smell the water, he mused, a little surprised by her enthusiasm. As they closed the distance and curved around the rocks he started to feel tension across the front on his head. No sounds other than the night creatures and the gritty footfalls of the camels came to him, but still his misgivings grew. Without thinking, he reached down and hooked his robes behind his axes. Even in the waning light, Ruefin caught the movement and steered his mount closer.

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  “What’s up?” he asked, peering into the distance.

  “Maybe nothing,” Eirik replied, “but I’ve got a weird feeling going on right now. Best be ready.”

  Ruefin reached down to where his claymore hung from the saddle and loosened the straps in case he needed to draw it quickly. It wasn’t the idea position for a blade, but he’d already learned that wearing it on his back while mounted would lead to violent objections from the camel at being jabbed in the backside.

  Points of orange light appeared beyond the outcrop along with the faintest hint of movement. As the road brought them closer, Eirik knew without doubt that others were already at the water-hole and had noticed their approach. Drawing nearer, he could make out a couple of tents pitched a short distance from a ring of torches encircling the water-hole. A small campfire gave enough light to reveal several figures.

  “We should approach the opposite side of the water,” Ruefin said, guiding his camel in a slow arc from the road, “should make us less of a threat.”

  “I think we’re already a threat. Let’s get the camels to the water and get our canteens filled as quickly as we can. I’m not liking the feel of this at all.” Pressure built inside his head and Eirik’s misgivings grew at what he knew was a hostile gaze upon them.

  Three figures had turned to watch them as they approached the low wall around the water, and a burst of adrenaline flooded through Eirik’s body. He dropped from Lady Latrine’s back and led her to the water, cocking an ear at Ruefin’s inelegant dismount behind him. Never taking his eyes from the unknown figures, he pulled out his canteen and plunged it into the water. The unmistakable din of two camels drinking drowned out all other sound, but Eirik could clearly see that a discussion was taking place at the campfire. His heart began to beat faster as two more figures appeared from the tents and joined the conversation. So far the group hadn’t moved, but the intensity of their gaze hadn’t subsided. Eirik stoppered his canteen and grabbed his spare, quickly checking that Ruefin was following suit. In the time it took him to do so, three of the figures had broken away and begun to approach with purposeful strides and hands hovering at their belts. The flickering torchlight glinted on scabbards that hung at their waists almost hidden in the folds of their clothes.

  Eirik gave a low whistle to Ruefin as he replaced his canteen and turned to face the strangers. He stood tall with his hands open at his sides whilst appraising the robed figures. Firelight reflected in three sets of eyes that glared from beneath tightly-wrapped headscarves. All three figures stood a head shorter than him and the movement of their robes in the breeze suggested lithe, athletic builds. Shifting his focus from one to another, the sense of enmity radiating from each remained constant and Eirik knew he had one chance to de-escalate the situation. Slowly placing one hand on his chest, he inclined his head in the respectful greeting of the region’s people and cleared his throat.

  “Greetings fellow travellers,” he began, speaking in Galti, the common traders’ tongue, “it is fortunate that we have found a safe place to make camp for the night. I presume there are no night predators here?” He felt more than heard Ruefin take a step closer and kept his attention riveted on the people in front of him.

  One of the stepped forward, his bearing almost a swagger, and made a half-hearted acknowledgement of Eirik’s greeting.

  “Greetings indeed, stranger. There are a great number of things that lurk in the darkness and many of them are...unfriendly.” The low masculine voice bore a heavy accent but there was no mistaking the threatening tone. “By what authority do you take the water?”

  “The water is a gift to travellers from the land and freely shared, is that not so? We were told that no man had authority over its use,” Ruefin replied from over Eirik’s shoulder.

  “As my companion says, we were told that all who travel may drink from the pools. Thus, we are here,” Eirik added.

  The leader’s stance shifted somewhat as he rested one hand on the pommel of his blade and extended the other, palm uppermost.

  “And we are here also, and before you into the bargain. You must pay for a share of the water.” The open palm made the beckoning gesture universally known for soliciting gold. In the background the two figures by the tents began to advance slowly with their hands also hovering at their belts. Eirik moistened his lips, already knowing where the conversation was heading.

  “We have nothing to pay you with,” he said, “and think it is ungracious to hoard the earth’s resources from those who need them.”

  “You lie, outlander,” the leader replied, his voice harsh, “you can and will pay.” The hand was now openly gripping the sword hilt. “If not, we shall take our payment from your corpses.”

  “You may certainly try, but the effort will cost you dearly.”

  The scimitar hissed from the sheath and sliced the air where Eirik’s head had been. A snarled curse was all the man had time for as the return strike came for his guts. Sparks flew and shouts split the night air. Eirik ducked under the block and swung at the man to his assailant’s right with his second axe. Heavy footsteps and an angry roar announced Ruefin entering the fray. The whistle of steel over his head ended in a thud and a scream as the third man fell, clutching the stump of his arm. Enraged, the erstwhile leader fell upon Eirik in a whirl of shining metal, forcing him to back whilst Ruefin fended off the second man. Blocking and parrying for all he was worth, Eirik glimpsed not two, but four figures running towards them with weapons drawn. A quick mental calculation suggested that flight would be the better option. As if to highlight this, he heard a sharp exclamation as Ruefin’s attacker scored a lucky hit and drew blood. Anger took over. Eirik reversed his axe and used his last block to tear the blade from his opponent’s hand. For a brief moment they made eye cntact before the seconds axe split the man’s skull.

  “We need to leave,” Eirik shouted over his shoulder as he wrenched the axe free in a shower of blood and teeth. In one smooth movement, Ruefin skewered his enemy through the stomach and turned on his heel in the dirt.

  “I’m out!” he replied and made a dash for the camels.

  Eirik backed up, noting that the reinforcements had slowed to a more wary pace, their blades raised but their attention split between their dead comrades and the men who killed them. A loud bellowing and muffled oaths came from the rear as Ruefin tried unsuccessfully to mount his standing camel, and two of the newcomers took their chance. Eirik dodged and spun, fending off both men as he backed up towards his own mount.

  “Eirik! Come on!” Finally Ruefin sat atop his steed and the rapidly fading hoofbeats heralded his departure. Eirik sucked in a breath, ducked low and, with a final flourish, dashed a handful of grit in the faces of his enemies. He launched himself at his camel, one foot snagging the stirrup and aiding him into the saddle. Footsteps approached from behind as he gathered the reins and urged Lady Latrine into action. With an expression of pure disgust, the camel lashed out with a hind foot, eliciting a high-pitched wheeze followed by a thud. Eirik quickly guessed where the broad foot had landed.

  Without pausing to look, He slapped the camel’s flank and used his heels until Lady Latrine broke into a full-blown gallop. Ahead of him he could just make out the outline of the fleeing Ruefin lurching to and fro in the saddle. Although she was smaller, Lady Latrine didn’t lack speed, especially when thoroughly riled. With much snorting and bleating she drew level with Ruefin’s mount and together they settled into a comfortable lope.

  “You okay?” Eirik called as soon as he caught up.

  “Little shit got me,” Ruefin replied, strain evident in his voice, “but it’s not much. Where are we headed?”

  “Just keep going. They might come after us and I’ll bet they know the area better than us.”

  Their flight took them across the scrub in what Eirik hoped was an easterly direction. Night had fallen and the intermittent light of the moon saved them from plunging into any ravines, but it was hard to get a bearing on direction. The breeze had stiffened into a definite wind now and fine grit stung Eirik’s face as they rode onward. Repeated glances over his shoulder didn’t reveal any pursuit and he had no sense of watchful eyes, but still he was reluctant to stop. With an early start at daybreak, the remaining men at the water-hole would have little difficulty following their trail. Focusing ahead, the landscape had become hazy and the the moonlight was now stained with red. As the miles passed and the camels began flagging, the wind picked up further and the air tasted of earth.

  “We need to stop,” Eirik shouted over the rising roar of the wind.

  “What?” Ruefin bellowed from beneath his headscarf.

  “We have to take cover. We’re riding into a fucking dust-storm!”

  Clouds swirled in the air and even in the limited light Eirik could see a blurred, undulating wall advancing across the scrubland towards them. He swore aloud and pointed Lady Latrine towards what he hope was a low rocky ledge in the hope it would shield them from the worst of the onslaught. Stories of how the driven sand could strip a man’s flesh from his bones ran through Eirik’s head, and he didn’t want to find out if they were true.