Snow dusted the orange sand of the Tyranic Plains. Winter's frozen breath laced the midday air, tearing through the fur and leather cloaks of the companion's with ease, and nipping at their cold faces. No wind blew, and therefore the risk of a sandstorm popping up was reduced to a minimum. The vastness of the desert was quite terrifying to Aerysdren. All around them was snow capped sandy dunes, with no signs of anything else in sight. He felt very tiny in the midst of it all, and found himself walking very close to either the horse or Lorthrendel.

The group had left Juliec early that morning, bidding farewell to its brick buildings and roads. Aerysdren thought that the city had been very lovely, even going so far as to thinking that if it wasn't for the slave markets and arena, it would rival Sylnisia, the woodland capital of Sheeth Alinar. The boy knew that was far stepping it by the long shot, however. Nothing was more beautiful than Sylnisia's trees and natural homes, shrouded in nature's glory. He was just being nice and giving the humans a chance.

Before they had left the Dancing Grass Inn, the argument had come up about what it was they were supposed to do once they reached Tribesmen's Bay. Lorthrendel had fixed Aerysdren with a stern, knowing eye during the entirety of the conversation. The mage had said nothing, however.

Aerysdren hated the Amulet that he was forced to wear around his neck more with each passing moment. He felt it calling him, like liquor called an alcoholic. He wanted it off, but it was stuck. Stuck until the end of this grand adventure that he had gotten tangled up in, although he was beginning to think that this adventure was not so grand at all. It was beginning to hurt. He supposed he would just have to live with it for now.

And trust absent gods, he thought with a somber sigh. He kicked at the sand as he walked and pulled a knife out of his belt, absently beginning to throw it up and down in the air.

"It's times like this that I wish I had never left Nag Mulduhr," Ragnus cursed from the front of the group. He stumbled along in the sand next to Isendir, his bushy eyebrows lowered so low over his eyes it was a wonder that he could even see. "No sand, no winter, no snow, no blasted rain. The weather is always perfect underneath the mountain. If dwarves were made for traversing deserts, Byrex would have-"

"Would you shut up for about the damn weather for once?" Isendir cast the dwarf an exasperated glance. "We have bigger things to worry about than your preferences for the climate." He scratched his stubble.

"Bah." The dwarf spat on the ground. "Why don't you get that map out again and make sure we're still going the right way?"

"Because I just got it out five minutes ago." Isendir let out a harsh breath. "Lorthrendel, do you have any spells for making old men less annoying?"

The corner of the fae's lips ever so slightly tilted upward into a crooked smile. "Unfortunately no, Shatterstorm. You have my deepest apologies."

"Isendir?" Varenyl suddenly stopped walking, causing Lorthrendel to bump into him. "Do you hear that?"

Everybody came to a halt. Silence fell. The horse looked around at the group with her black eyes, wondering what in the world was going on and hoping that perhaps they were taking a break. They listened, but they could hear nothing but the sound of their own breathing.

Isendir shook his head after half a minute. "I don't-"

The sand abruptly exploded in a storm around them, completely blinding them. They heard Aerysdren cry out and Varenyl's weapon was knocked from his hand. Isendir drew his sword, only to have a figure shrouded in white appear before him and instantly disarm him. He heard Lorthrendel and Ragnus swear.

In an instant the storm was over. The sand resettled in the ground, and the wind became nonexistent once more. The horse had bolted in the chaos, but this time, the companions were not alone.

A group of about six people shrouded in white cloths circled them, their weapons drawn and their faces hidden by scarves.

"Who the hell are you?" Ragnus snarled, struggling to his feet. "Y-"

One of the figures stepped forward, pulling their cowl and scarf off as they did. It was a woman. She had russet skin, dark, beautiful brown eyes and freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose. She wore her short, dark hair in dreadlocks and gazed at them with a less than friendly eye. A bow and quiver of feather tipped arrows was slung over her shoulder.

"I'd ask the same of you," she said, her voice laced with a heavy accent. She turned around to meet the eye of all of the companions. "What in the holy name of Cheimon is a dwarf, a fae, a Highlander, and two elves doing in Drangok territory? You are lucky that we did not mistake you for one of the Vondas Tribe. If we had, you'd already be dead." Her eyes flared and pointed her sword in Aerysdren's direction. The Sylvanaar was on his knees, a warrior holding a curved sword to his throat. "Speak, interlopers, or we kill the child."

Isendir felt his heart skip a beat. Aerysdren gazed at the sand, his eyes blank. Not a hint of fear was detected in his icy blue eyes. If anything he seemed to be...preparing. Isendir just hoped that the boy wouldn't be rash enough to try and escape. That would make things worse.

"We seek Tribesmen's Bay," said Lorthrendel when Isendir remained silent. He slowly bent down and picked his glasses up, praying they hadn't broken."We mean you and your people no harm."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Tribesmen's Bay?"

"He speaks the truth," Varenyl returned. He gazed at the warriors with cold, glinting eyes. "Tribesmen's Bay is our destination. There is something there that we have been sent to help defeat."

The woman turned around and spoke to one of the warriors in their own tongue. Isendir cast Lorthrendel a questioning glance, but the fae only shook his head. He didn't know any of the native languages of the Tyranic Plains.

The woman said something to the one holding Aerysdren. At her word, the man immediately let the boy go. Aerysdren fell forward on his hands into the sand before struggling to his feet.

She turned back to the companions. "You know of what is happening there, then?"

"Yes." Isendir nodded. "You may have trouble believing our story, but-"

"You will tell me everything when we arrive at Drangok." The woman sheathed her weapon. "I am Leravachainisyilliad Zindidre, and I am chieftain of the Drangok Tribe." She crossed her strong, toned arms over her chest. "But for the sake of simplicity, you can call me Leravacha."

"Chieftain Leravacha," growled a warrior standing near her. He gestured at them with his weapon. "Stand up. If you so much as even think of escaping, I will personally bash your head in with a mace."

Lorthrendel grimaced. "How charming."

"Search them and bind their hands. But only take that which could be lethal," Leravacha ordered. "And make sure the mage is silenced. He is the most dangerous one."

"Of course, chieftain." A young, slender man nodded his head, gazing at Lorthrendel. The mage thought he could detect a flicker of admiration in the man's dark brown eyes.

"May I ask how you ambushed us so effectively and silently?" Lorthrendel asked as one of the tribesmen bound his hands. "It was most impressive."

"That was courtousy of Luh-Kajeon Fuuhpuzrohd, one of our tribe's wizards," Leravacha returned. "He is most talented, despite his young age. He's only eighteen." She pulled her cowl and scarf back up. "I bring him on patrols like these so he can get experience."

Lorthrendel suspected that the boy she was referring to was the one standing just a few ways in front of him. Luh-Kajeon flushed deeply at the chieftain's praise. He looked up at the fae, embarrassed. "I don't suppose you're holding a sword somewhere?"

Lorthrendel pulled out a small knife from a hidden pocket in his robes and took off his rings. He plopped them in Luh-Kajeon's hands. "A mage who wields a sword is a weakling. This is all I have."

The boy cocked his head at the rings, not fully understanding why Lorthrendel had given them to him. "I-"

"They enhance my spells," the fae answered his unspoken question. His red eyes flashed.

Luh-Kajeon nodded and put the knife and rings away. "I see." He turned around, but it was obvious he wanted to say more. He opened his mouth, but, thinking better of it, shut it and said nothing.

Leravacha admired Varenyl's axe as the warriors searched the elf and bound his hands. She curiously ran her hand down the long, silver handle, a smile touching her lips.

"You are, or were, a Royal Guardsmen, elf?" She turned to look at the Sylvari. "The craftsmanship on his weapon is truly amazing. I've always been impressed by your people's smithing abilities. Do not worry. No harm will come to this. Or at least if I deem that you and your companions are here to help us." She handed the axe back to a warrior standing closely beside her.

"Thank you, chieftain." Varenyl gave a stiff bow of his head. His brows were knitted together in a frown.

Leravacha's gaze continued around the group, seeing if everything was ready. A pile of knives lay at Aerysdren's and Isendir's feet, half covered by the sand, from where one of the tribesmen had searched them.

"Pick them up, pick them up! Don't let the sand rust them!" Aerysdren's eyes widened. He glared at the tall tribesmen with as much fury as he could muster. "You're so rude!"

"Do as he says, Vokvryn." Leravacha rubbed her shoulder. Her eyes glinted in amusement. "I like that kid." She turned her gaze to Ragnus, whose face was so flushed with anger and embarrassment that his face resembled the bright red color of a tomato. "I have discovered dwarves to be stand true to nearly every stereotype of their race. So far, you have proven to be no different."

Ragnus's eyes narrowed. "Lassy, you've no right to disrespect my people." He spat on the ground once more and jerked away from the tribesmen tying his wrists together. "And your lacky here had better keep good care of my axe, or it will find itself up your royal ass."

Leravacha let out a hearty laugh. "Very funny. Do not worry, master dwarf. Once we know everything, you will get everything back and be free to go." Leravacha looked at Isendir, sizing him up. She was silent a few moments before saying, "You were once a knight, yes? I can tell by the way you hold yourself. Once, the knights were very loyal, and helped my people when we were in need. Now, they see us as nothing more than savages and ignore us. But you...I suspect that you are not like that." Her chocolate colored eyes softened and she gently tapped her moccasined foot in the sand.

"The Knighthood was not always the way it is today," Isendir replied, returning her stare. "Its current state saddens me."

"Hmph. The feeling is mutual, Highlander." Leravacha cleared her throat. "Are we ready then? Let us take our 'honored guests' back to our tribe. Meltikdehk, run swiftly and alert my sister and wife of our find. Do not alert the rest of the people. We do not wish to cause a panic."

Another female warrior, presumably Meltikdehk, stepped forward and bowed from the waist down, her fist pressed over her heart. "As you command, my lady." She ran off. The sand did not so much as stir under her feet.

***🐉***

thank you so much for reading! this chapter is dedicated to redmx_13, who is another really sweet friend of mine on here. she's awesome, please go check her out ♡

please give me any criticism or suggestions you have! i feel this chapter could use a lot of work. like a lot xD it was lacking depth to me but I didn't know how to make it better. im really excited about introducing Lerevacha. id love to give her her own book soon.

also, i made a cover for a short (ish) story im writing soon (ish). ive mentioned it before i think. i know the cover ain't the best, but it's the best i could do lol.

thank you so much again!

until next time~♡