Book 7, Chapter 49 - The Cursed Deser (1/2)

Book 7, Chapter 49 - The Cursed Deser

A thousand kilometers from Stormford’s western mountain range was a vast desert.

While it may not have been the largest desert, it was certainly one of the most dangerous. It had no proper name. For more than a thousand years, those exiled from the Elysian lands were exiled to this inhospitable place where grass did not grow and even the birds loathed to visit.

From time to time, beasts from elsewhere also moved into the territory. But whether from Stormford or somewhere else, very few managed to survive. Over time the nameless expanse was given a new moniker – The Cursed Desert.

It was a thousand kilometers in all directions. An endless stretch of danger and hostility. Some remote areas had consistent signs of life, but they were also the most unforgiving. Of course, the more brutal the environment, the more cruel the creatures that survived within it.

As for people? Who in their right mind wanted to live in such a place? Only the crazy – but these were crazy times. There was no shortage of people out of their right mind. At least as far as Jara was concerned, this group was fucking nuts.

Three days ago they’d appeared in the desert and presented themselves before him. For a pretty penny they convinced him to lead them into the desert in search of an old legend. The oasis Kesjir.

The name was a holdover from an ancient local language and it meant ‘the forgotten paradise.’ Even in the no-man’s land that was the Cursed Desert, it was reputed that a place of unmatched beauty existed. Of course reaching this hidden gem was costly, and entering even more so.

Jara was a simple wasteland traveler. For years he had traveled the sands, looking for a place to settle. While he knew the path to Kesjir he never tried to make the journey himself. A man of his mediocre talents would never be welcome.

Today the rolling dunes were marred by a string of black figures. As they picked their way across the sands, Jara looked over his clients. They were all dressed in dark cloaks and said hardly anything. Their leader walked around with his hood lowered, revealing shoulder-length black hair. Whipping sands were strong enough to mar steel, but did nothing to this stranger’s handsome features.

There was something extraordinary about his looks and temperament. He was oddly… perfect. But also kind of an asshole.

All kinds of horrible creatures lived in this awful place. One was a scorpion twice the size of a camel with a carapace as strong as iron. Their pincer could crush tanks. These monsters were a plague and one of the most dangerous things they could encounter.

Unfortunately for them, they ran into such a beast on their first night of the journey.

Even now, days later, Jara had a hard time getting it out of his head. The young stranger cast out a flame with a flick of his wrist and all of a sudden the scorpion was a column of fire. There wasn’t anything left of it when the eerie green light finally extinguished.

With power like that, they had to have come from the legendary Elysian lands!

Jara’s ancestors had been exiled from there. He’d never seen them himself, but he’d heard stories. For years he’d wandered the Cursed Desert and saw all sorts of powerful beings – but nothing like this guy.

He couldn’t really be called crazy like the others, and yet… What other reason could there be for him to come to this hellhole? What was so bad about the Elysian realms, where they could have anything they wanted?

There was only one thing that made sense to Jara. The hidden treasure.

Old legends claimed that in the deepest parts of the desert, where it was most dangerous, lay an unimaginable hoard of riches. Whoever found it was said to be granted eternal life and limitless power.

Such a tale was the only thing that could attract a man like this. But when Jara thought about their destination it filled him with disquiet. It was too far, too dangerous. While he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t enticing the desert was home to ten times as many horror stories as legendary treasures.

The damn place was called the Cursed Desert, after all. It earned the name from numberless terrible things waiting for unsuspecting victims.

His thoughts were interrupted when the young man named Cloudhawk asked him a question. “How much longer?”

“Well boss, following this path it should take us three days and three nights to reach Kesjir. We’re likely to pass a number of monster lairs as we go, so we should keep a sharp eye.”

Jara clung to the back of a camel as they forged ahead through biting winds. It got so bad a man couldn’t tell north from south. But Jara was born with a keen sense of direction that helped him survive out here. Yet despite his skills, the deeper they went the more uncomfortable he became. They were crossing territory he’d never been to before.

It was noon and the sunlight bit like daggers. It baked the sands and even the swirling wind warbled unsettlingly. Sands were scalding hot as they spun through eddies, making the environment unbearable.