Fires Upon the Sand

As expected, Xelari raised an eyebrow, her green gaze roaming up and down my lean, tanned body. Curiosity replaced the lust when she noticed the long, intricate golden tattoos upon my forearm.

"Marvelous," she murmured, crawling across the tent to inspect the artwork. "Is that a serpent? A dragon?"

"The latter," I said, breathing a sigh of relief that she seemed more interested in the golden ink than my body. "After the sun was slain and its essence was cast down to earth, the sun-dragons led us to this desert. It became our sanctuary. And it also became our sacred duty, for my ancestors swore to protect the tomb of the fallen sun."

"Seems to me that the sun is doing just fine," Esharyn said from across the tent. She'd stripped out of her armor, down to a flimsy silken shift that showed off her lean, athletic and pale physique. I caught sight of dozens of small scars; clearly she'd lived a life filled with violence.

"The sun that still blazes overhead is a husk. A rotting corpse," I explained. "The soul of the sun was killed and cast down to earth. And we still worship it, protect it, and pray that it will one day return to glorious life in the sky above."

Xelari reached out but stopped her fingers a few inches short of my forearm.

"May I?"

I stared into her green eyes for a moment, struck at how curious and warm they were. The touch she sought was not one of desire or hunger, but out of something like intellectual curiosity. It was as if I were a specimen or an artifact. That notion sent another shiver through me. After I gave her a slow nod, Xelari's soft fingers reached out and grazed over the tattoo. I shivered as she traced the lifelike depiction of the golden dragon. She murmured something under her breath; a few of the sounds were similar to my native tongue, so I assumed the words were from the dusk-elf language.

"Have you ever seen a sun-dragon?" she asked.

"I have not had the honor, no. But my mother did, when she was a girl. They live in the mountains far at the edge of the desert. It is considered folly to seek them out, lest we incur their wrath." I smiled down at the tattoo. "This dragon, in fact, was the one that she saw. My mother inked its likeness upon my skin when I earned my spear."

"She did marvelous work," Xelari murmured, tracing over the resplendent fangs of the beast. Once more she met my gaze and I couldn't help but take in a sharp breath at the emerald gleam of those eyes. "Have you any others?"

I nodded and turned around, taking hold of my long black braid and pulling it aside, exposing the glowing golden runes tattooed upon the back of my neck. Ice tore through my spine as her soft fingers traced over those symbols.

"I know the dawn-elf script almost as well as my own native tongue," she murmured. "And yet I cannot decipher these."

"That's because they're draconic runes, not dawn-elf ones. They're akin to...a compass. A navigational aid. To guide my soul down towards the tomb of the sun, so that in the afterlife, I may join with the Dead Sun and help it one day ascend."

"An afterlife of work," Esharyn said with a chuckle as Xelari backed away. "I'd rather just take a nice long nap once I'm dead."

A twinge of disappointment rippled through me, for I longed to feel those fingers trace over more than just my tattoos.

Given the intensity of the storm, I suspected it would take hours to pass, so I decided to take the opportunity to sleep. With warmth still gripping my cheeks, I curled up within my thin bedroll, using my pack as a pillow.

Across the tent, Xelari murmured something that drew forth what sounded like a curse from Esharyn. The dusk-elf let out a low, sultry laugh.

"Hush," Esharyn grumbled. "Allow our guide to get her rest."

Another shiver danced through my body at the memory of Xelari's fingers dancing over my tattoos. I nonetheless drifted off to sleep.

**

When my eyes fluttered open, the howl of the wind had died. Moonlight flickered through a gap in the tent. My eyes widened with the realization that the tent was open. Whirling, I grabbed hold of my knife and saw that Esharyn was still slumbering a few feet from me.

Xelari was nowhere in sight.

Cursing under my breath, I poked my head outside. The storm had added several inches of sand to our campsite and had shifted the dunes around us, rendering the desert nearly unrecognizable. My eyes, however, cared little for the landscape, and instead settled on a most curious sight atop a nearby dune.

The dusk-elf stood atop the summit, the three moons glowing behind her. My eyes widened as she moved, taking long and elegant steps back and forth across the dune. Her hips swayed and her arms writhed about, engaging in a slow, seductive dance that seemed to be solely for the benefit of the moons.

The darkness and the distance made it impossible for me to truly admire her features, and yet I stared awestruck nonetheless. I saw no sign of her red silk dress, though the shadows deterred me from fully drinking in her nude beauty. Perhaps that was for the best...I might have been struck dead by the sight of her uncovered curves.

Though there was no music, the drumbeat of my heart formed the accompaniment. The moments stretched on as I watched her leap, writhe, and wriggle across the top of the dune. When we had met, she'd called herself a 'Moondancer,' saying that she was the equivalent of a Sun-Speaker. Was this dance some sort of holy rite or an offering to the moons her people worshiped?

My mouth went dry as I imagined running my hands along those hips, my tongue tracing the insides of those soft thighs...

A soft chuckle from behind me nearly jolted me out of my skin. Flinching, I glanced back to see Esharyn crouched within the tent, her eyes also affixed on Xelari.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," I rasped, looking back to the dusk-elf as she executed an elegant flip upon the sands. "What is it? Some sort of ritual?"

"Aye. A Moondance. A magical, sacred dance to honor the moons and to draw power from them. She's done this almost every night we've been out in the desert, because the skies are so clear. She says the moons are even brighter here than they were in her homeland. But this dance in particular is one of gratitude. An expression of thanks for surviving today's trials."

I wondered if this would have been considered sacrilege, given my own people's fervent worship of the sun. Yet how could something this beautiful be considered a crime?

"How do you even keep your hands off her?" I murmured.

"Oh, she can get very cross if I interrupt one of her rituals," Esharyn said with a soft laugh. "But...her punishments can be just as enticing as the dances."

"You two are a strange pair."

"You don't know the half of it," Esharyn said with a sigh. "We met as enemies, in fact...I tried to kill her. She then became my captor, then my client, then my ally. And now..." She chuckled again. "I don't really know what to call us. But we work well together, in more ways than one."

Those words conveyed a grand story that I could scarcely grasp. How could mortal enemies have become lovers? I might have pressed for more details, were it not for the enticing sight before us.

We both fell silent, our eyes enraptured as the shadowy dusk-elf twirled, her hips rocking and writhing as if she were cavorting with some invisible lover. My thighs shook as I imagined her hips grinding against mine. As that silvery hair glittered in the moonlight, I couldn't help but imagine my hands entwining with those curls, gripping tightly as she feasted between my legs.

Gods, what was wrong with me? These outlanders were strangers, whose true motives were still shrouded in mystery. Though I knew they sought a relic of Jakarius, I knew not for what ends. What if they were enemies of my people or had some nefarious plan in store?

Those swaying hips, however, destroyed such questions. Heat flared within me as darkness caressed those curves. I licked my lips, wondering what a dusk-elf tasted like, what one sounded like as she writhed and moaned...

I cleared my throat, tearing my gaze away.

"We should get moving," I mumbled, ashamed that we were wasting the grace of the cold night. "It's easier and safer to travel when it's dark. Now that the storm has passed, we should not delay any further."

Esharyn let out a low chuckle.

"Of course."

Together we rose and donned our gear, and I struggled to avert my gaze from the horizon. As Esharyn trotted out to fetch Xelari, I wandered over and whistled to awake Arandith. The bleary-eyed, scarred elf emerged with a scowl.

Grumbling under his breath, he prepared for the march. Xelari returned, once more wearing her silken red dress, with a warm smile upon her face. Though she had not seemed particularly haggard or weary when we'd met, the woman practicallyglowed, as if that Moondance had eased a great burden.

Without a word, she brushed past me to claim her belongings. Within minutes, we were packed up and marching once more. Gritting my teeth, I focused on the moonlit horizon, not once letting my eyes stray to Xelari. To do so would have ignited lusts that I could not afford at the moment.

"Did I do something to offend, Kiraska?" Xelari asked as we crested a grassy hill hours after leaving camp. "You were full of nothing but questions when we met. And now silence."

I didn't dare glance at the dusk-elf, even after she'd addressed me. All I could picture was her writhing body, her gleaming moonlit hair, the promise hidden within the shadows that had caressed her curves...

"Silence is a weapon in the desert," Arandith growled. "You would be wise to heed Kiraska's example."

Grateful for Arandith's intervention, I kept silent for several more hours, before pointing out a place to camp to wait out the harsh midday sun.

"There," I said, nodding at a ruin of sun-ravaged stone that sat astride a sprawling swamp. In the middle of the swamp ran a murky, muddy river fed by one of the desert's few underground springs. "The Commonwealth legions built a scouting post there during their last invasion. My kin raided it before shattering their main army. Good shelter. Good foraging."

Together we descended to the swampy ruin. Two-headed serpents vanished into the murky water as we approached. Dragonflies flitted overhead, while long-legged birds stalked through the mud, their beaks skewering unseen prey.

Arandith and I swept through the ruins, ensuring no predators or undead were lying in wait. Satisfied that the sun-ravaged fort held no hidden dangers, we returned to the others as they were setting up camp within the shadow of the large, half-crumbled tower.

"Humans have no notion of how to make things last," Xelari said, wrinkling her nose. "These structures were built but a few decades ago. I've seen orcish ruins nearly four centuries old that are in better condition than this."

"The desert makes fools out of architects and stonemasons," I said. "The orcish ruins that once dotted this land have also been swallowed by the sands or scourged by the sun."

When her eyes lingered on mine for just a bit too long, I glanced away and headed towards the murky river, where I refilled my canteen. The magic imbued within the leather would purify the water and enhance its potency, keeping me hydrated and refreshed for hours.

Esharyn crouched beside me, brushing her fingers over the reeds.

"If you want my advice, you should either just give in or be direct that you're not interested," she said with a wry grin. "She'll respect your wishes either way."

"I do not know of what you speak."

"Your demeanor on the journey today. Never meeting her eyes, wandering away from her anytime she strayed too close." Esharyn raised an eyebrow. "Are such relations forbidden among the dawn-elves?"

"No," I said, scowling down at the murky water. "But I can brook no distractions on this journey."

"Ah, but Xelari and I love our distractions. Gives us something worth fighting for." She gave me a slow smile. "But do you want me to tell her to stop making eyes at you?"

I swallowed and stared down at the water.

"No. It flusters me but I quite like it. It feels good to be...desired."

Esharyn let out a snort.

"Are you saying that you arenot considered desirable among your people?"

"That's a different sort of desire." I sighed and glanced down at the draconic tattoo upon my arm. "People want me for my bloodline. My parents are both considered great heroes; among my clan, people only see me as a prospect of seizing that glory for themselves. Of siring children who bear that heroic legacy."

"That's one of the many damned perks of having a woman as a lover," Esharyn said, her soft laughter echoing across the swamp. "No 'bloodlines' to worry about continuing."

My chuckle entwined with the echoes of her laughter but the mirth died at a sudden shout from Arandith. Turning, I saw the scarred elf perched atop a crumbled wall, pointing to something with his spear.

Resting a hand upon my knife, I raced over to him. Esharyn followed, sword in hand, while Xelari rose from her place beside the cookfire and scampered from the shade to join us.

"You are a mage," he said in an almost accusatory tone at Esharyn. "Can you comprehend this?"

His spear rested over a dusty brick, upon which had been carved a jagged rune the likes of which I'd never seen before. Scowling, Xelari clambered up to inspect the symbol.

Her green eyes widened.

"This place was a battlefield, yes?" she asked, her silvery curls dancing about as she whirled to face me.

"Aye," I said, my confusion and dread growing. "An outpost of the Commonwealth, destroyed before the final battle against their legions."

"And how many would have died here?"

"I...I don't know. From the stories, perhaps a few dozen. Maybe a hundred."

"Bloody Voids," Esharyn cursed. "Could it be like Amberkeep all over again?"

"What in the Dead Sun's name is Amberkeep?" Arandith demanded.

Xelari scurried across the other stones, occasionally kneeling to wipe away the dust.

"It was a fortress that had seen a horrific battle," Esharyn said. "A place of death like that can be a forge for a necromancer, with so many corpses to work with."

I glanced around, seeing no signs of any bodies. Given how much time had passed and how the sandstorms could shift the landscape, there could be hundreds of sun-withered corpses right beneath my feet.

"What's the triggering rune?" Esharyn called out to Xelari.

"It's not a time-based spell. I think it requires another signal. A powerful enough burst of energy could ignite the other runes even at a great distance."

"So this entire ruin could writhe with undead at a moment's notice," Arandith said, gripping his spear tightly.

"Aye," said Esharyn with a nod. "They probably placed runes like this as a contingency in case their camps were attacked elsewhere. A clever plan: I'll give the bastards that much."

"Wait," I said, raising a hand. "If necromancers could use this place of death to conjure a small army of undead, could they not do the same at the battlefield where you're looking for the relic?"

"Yes," said Xelari, her eyes ablaze with a fire I'd not yet seen from her before. The wrath in her gaze nearly forced me back a step, even though it was not directed at me.

"There were thousands of corpses there," I blurted out. "That army was nearly large enough to conquer the entire desert...but if it is awoken under the thrall of necromancers..."

"Tavertan must be informed," Arandith said, looking southward. "The elders and sun-speakers must know of this, so they can prepare the clans for war."

"Go, then," I said. "Tavertan will be moving slowly on account of the wounded, so you can easily catch up."

His eyes narrowed at me.

"And you will stay with the outlanders?"

Of course I had to stay with them. We could not let outlanders wander our sacred deserts unescorted and they would need my help if they were to recover the relic.

And deep down, I knew there was more to it than that. That sultry dusk-elf had awoken a hunger in me I'd not felt in some time, and my soul longed to bear witness to another of her sacred dances. I swallowed, buried those thoughts even deeper, then nodded at the other dawn-elf.

"Go. I will serve as their guide."

The scarred elf hopped down from the sun-ravaged stone. After resupplying from the muddy river, he broke into a trot as he raced to the south. I watched him go, before suppressing a shudder at the thought of an undead army rising up from beneath the sands.

"Is there anything we can do about these runes?" I asked.

"Thankfully, yes," said Xelari. "Whoever placed them did so quickly, so they did not enact wards to protect the magic. Perhaps they thought nobody else would even find them."

"Deactivating such runes carries risks, however," Esharyn said, frowning. "The other runes might trigger if you disarm even one of them. We could have a damned ugly fight on our hands."

"You and I have a good habit of making it through 'damned ugly fights,' Esharyn." Xelari raised an eyebrow at me, that furious purpose still burning in her gaze. "Are you with us?"

I gave her a fierce nod.

"Anything you need."

The fire in her gaze shifted from one of anger to one of desire.

"Anything I need?"

"Oh, by the fucking Voids, Xel," Esharyn growled as heat blossomed upon my dark cheeks. "Save that for later."

She rolled her eyes and glanced to me.

"Sorry about her. She's incorrigible."

"Indeed I am," said Xelari with a sly smile. "But yes. Back to the matter at hand. I will prepare the components and runestones necessary for the dispelling. You two fan out and see if you can find any old corpses. The more we can dispose of or destroy before I finish my ritual, the easier time we'll have of it."

After fighting off one last shiver inspired by Xelari's flirtation, I nodded and trotted off. Using the butt of my spear, I prodded at the sand in search of bodies that had been hidden by time and the elements. Over the course of an hour wandering through the old ruin, I found a dozen corpses in all. Judging by the size of their skeletons and their rusted breastplates, all of them had once been Commonwealth soldiers. My skin crawled at the thought of them rising again like those orcs, so I used a stone brick to smash the bones to dust.

"If the death-mages are trying to raise corpses from the old wars, where did they get those orcs from?" I asked Esharyn as she kicked at the sand with her boot, exposing the arm-bone of a fallen soldier. "No orcs have troubled these lands in centuries."

"They're all from the same clan," Esharyn answered, exposing more of the skeleton before crushing its skull with a vicious stomp. "Three orcish blood-mages were exiled from their clan for dabbling with necromancy. When they returned from their exile, they did not repent. Instead they turned on their clan, killing every last one of them, and raising the entire clan as undead slaves."

My eyes widened.

"So...so that woman waskin to those undead orcs she sent against us. By the Dead Sun, why? What could possibly be worth such dishonor?"

I could not imagine treating my own kin like disposable chattel, raising them from the dead to serve as my slaves.

"Power. The greatest power there is, in fact. Death, after all, is the one inevitable thing in this world. So to defeat death is to conquer the inevitable. In the eyes of those necromancers...their shambling kin are a means to that end."

"And the death-mages seek that relic as a means to enhance their power further," I murmured.

I knew little of Jakarius and even less of necromancy, so could not fathom why such foul people would want such a relic.

"No. They seek that relic to protect their power, not to enhance. Because we will use it against them. So they seek to deny us an advantage." She glanced over at Xelari, who was sprinkling blood near one of the runes she'd found.