The wind screamed with the power of a thousand banshees and scoured the earth below with claws of flying sand. Huddled tightly together under a canvas groundsheet, Eirik and Ruefin cowered in the lee of a low ridge and prayed they’d survive the night. They didn’t speak – there was no point. The din of the storm filled their heads and it was all they could do to keep their sanity as they waited for the maelstrom to subside.

  They’d managed to take cover before the storm fully hit, but the air had already thickened with dust that clogged both nose and throat. Eirik took a swallow from his canteen, pulled out a strip of dried meat and snapped it in two. At first he though Ruefin was asleep, but the jerky vanished from his hand and he felt a movement indicating a nod. Eirik chewed slowly, running through the incident at the water-hole and wondering if it could have ended differently. He suspected not. They hadn’t been singled out because they were outlanders – the hostility had permeated the air as soon as they came visible. Most likely they were simple bandits who preyed on anyone who passed by for what little they could take. The possibility of pursuit was unlikely even without the arrival of the storm. Almost half their number had been killed or disabled by two men, and even the dimmest bandit would see that the odds were against them. Beneath the howling wind and flying sand, Eirik relaxed and let his eyes close.

  It wasn’t a sound that jerked Eirik from sleep, it was more the lack of it. He blinked dust from the corners of his eyes and listened to the silence. The storm had passed. He lifted the canvas and peered outside. Runnels of fine powder poured to the ground like water and Eirik realised dawn was approaching as he crawled from the makeshift shelter. Two large shapes close by filled him with relief as the unmistakable sound of cud-chewing reached his ears. Built for the environment, the camels had hunkered down and waited for the weather to settle.

  A series of strident farts issued from beneath the canvas. Both camels paused in their mastication to stare at the undulating fabric and clouds of dust flying into the air. Finally the untidy bundle that was Ruefin Broadblade emerged from the sands coccoon. Vigorous coughing followed and ended with a groan as Ruefin pressed a hand to his neck. A dark patch marked his robe and the fabric had stiffened where dust had stuck to the blood.

  “Ha! I live to see the dawn,” Ruefin declared, raising both arms in triumph, then wincing in pain. “That was one of the shittiest nights I’ve ever had.”

  “Well at least the storm drowned out the snoring,” Eirik replied. He took a moment to shake out his robes and enjoyed the opportunity to remove the ever-present headscarf.His sun-bleached, shoulder-length fair hair hung in lank clumps and no amount of finger-combing was going to help. Eirik would have given his last coin for a bath and a bar of soap.

  “So where the fuck are we?” Ruefin asked, distracting Eirik from his hygiene fantasy. The map lay on the ground where Ruefin sat cross-legged, scowling at both it and his surroundings.

  Dropping to the ground beside his friend, Eirik noticed a sheen of perspiration on his forehead and heard a slight rasp to his breathing.

  “East is that way,” he said, pointing at the sun just peeking above the horizon, “but never mind that just now. Get those robes off and let me take a look at that injury.”

  “It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, it’s an unwashed flesh wound and you might not be. Robes off. Now.”

  With much complaining, Ruefin extricated himself from the voluminous fabric despite almost losing his balance twice. The curved blade had carved a line over the shoulder down to the clavicle. Thick crusted blood and dirt was surrounded by reddened, swollen flesh, and Eirik grimaced at the signs of infection. Ruefin caught his wrist as he reached for the canteen and shook his head.

  “Don’t waste water, we don’t have any to spare,”

  “We can spare enough to at least get the worst of the dirt off,” Eirik replied, pulling his arm free. With a piece of relatively clean cloth from his pack, he managed to remove most of the grit without damaging the thick scab covering the injury. The discoloured flesh was hot to the touch and the emergency supplies would have little effect once infection took hold. A smear of salve and clean bandage was the best Eirik could do until they reached some kind of civilisation.

  The map wasn’t much help since whoever made it had been sparse with the details and, no matter how he compared it with the surrounding area, there was no way of telling exactly where they were.

  “My best guess is around here,” Eirik said, scratching his gritty beard and tapping a spot southeast of the water-hole, “but that really is a guess.”

  Ruefin leaned forward and stared at the map. Drops of sweat stained the parchment.

  “If we head northeast, we should hit the trade road sooner or later. We’ve got water,, at least.”

  “We’ve got water for now,” Eirik replied with a frown, “but I’m not sure how far it’ll get us.”

  “Got a better idea?”

  “No,”

  As they packed their kit and loaded the camels, Eirik became increasingly worried about Ruefin. The big man was trying to hide the discomfort but his movements were jerky and the grunts of pain unmistakable. Eirik exhaled deeply and rested his head against Lady Latrine’s fragrant flank, eyes closed and thoughts racing. An odd sound came to him, a sound somewhere between a whistle and a whine. Too musical to be an insect, the sound oscillated on the desert breeze like distant birds.

  “Eirik!”

  The shout snapped his eyes open and send one hand reaching for an axe. Instead of approaching danger, Ruefin pointed a shaking finger at a curious phenomenon floating in the air between them. At first he though it was a puff of sand lifted by the breeze and backlit by the sun, but the movements were too controlled. He moved closer, lowering his raised hand and concentrating on the shower of multi-coloured sparkles that rotated in the sir before him. A sense of being studied washed over him and he almost pulled back and away, but the more he watched, the less afraid he became.

  “Am I imagining that?” Ruefin asked, wiping sweat from his brow and shaking his head.

  “No, you’re not.” Eirik took a step forward and raised his hand, extending it palm upward. The cluster of lights formed a line and began to circle his arm, their music louder now and more akin to the tinkling of glass wind-chimes. The gaze he felt was not threatening. On the contrary, it was a wordless warmth tinged with earnest curiosity. He stood still and watched the moving trail of lights take a turn around him before wafting over to inspect Ruefin. Nervous and sweating heavily, Ruefin stayed rooted to the spot with his eyes locked on Eirik as the procession finished its tour and returned to the space between them in a coruscating spiral.

  “What’s going on, Eirik? I don’t like this,” Ruefin murmured, still frozen in place and refusing to move.

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  “It means us no harm,” Eirik said, his initial apprehension subsiding, “it’s just curious about us. I wonder what it is.”

  The cluster of lights began to spin in a circle once more before drawing away from them. It paused about fifteen paces away and circled again. Both men stood and watched. After floating in the air for a minute, the lights flew back to them and spun briefly before repeating itself, hovering in one spot as if waiting.

  The sense of being observed remained strong in Eirik’s mind but now it was accompanied by a feeling or urgency. As he stood prevaricating, the sparkling cluster repeated the movement again and again, growing faster and more agitated with each repetition. Whatever this entity was, it showed all the signs of sentience. Finally, Eirik came to a decision.

  “It wants us to follow,” he said, beckoning Ruefin over to the camels.

  “What for? It could be leading into something worse,”

  “Worse than what? We have no idea where we are and have water for two days at the most. And you’re sick.”

  Ruefin waved a hand in denial and almost fell on his backside. His shoulders drooped and he hauled himself aboard his camel with a resigned groan. Eirik followed suit and guided Lady Latrine in the wake of the glittering lights. Interestingly enough, the camels weren’t the least bit bothered by the cascade of colour leading the into the brightening dawn. If anything, both beasts had a spring in their step as if comforted by the strange presence they now followed. Eirik pulled his feet up and crossed them in front of the saddle, alternating between studying the map and shooting worried glances at Ruefin. He seemed to be holding his own against the rolling gait of the camel, but what little Eirik could see of his face showed a man becoming sicker by the hour. Who knew what filth coated the blade that sliced Ruefin’s flesh and poisoned his blood. If they didn’t find some kind of civilisation soon there was a very real chance that Ruefin would die, and that was something Eirik didn’t want to contemplate.

  The landscape began to change as the camels plodded onward in the wake of their mysterious guide. The terrain became more rocky and undulating and the earth a loose and sandy orange. Fewer trees dotted the escarpments and those that grew were gnarled and twisted by seasons of wind and driven grit. Clumps of long desiccated grasses clustered around withered shrubs as if hoping for protection from the force of the sun. Cacti became ubiquitous and Eirik recalled learning about them when his unit first arrived in the drier regions of Divarim. He knew which would provide a little water and which bore fluid that would kill a man faster than dehydration. Looking around at the increasingly barren landscape he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  At its zenith the sun was an unstoppable force and the land cowered beneath it. Not a creature stirred and even the breeze had subsided in the face of the stifling heat. The stoic camels walked onward, picking their way effortlessly across flat expanses of cracked earth and weaving around narrow, shale-strewn ravines. The cloud of sparkling colours led with confidence and, looking ahead Eirik could see where the weathered rock currently beneath them gradually fell away into redder, sandier terrain. He hoped they weren’t being led into the desert to die.

  After reaching the base of a low plateau, Eirik and Ruefin began following the blurred edge where rock met sand. Cracks and fissures carved the earth and faded into what would become desert further north. Eirik had just reached the point where despair began picking at him when the lights turned sharply into one of the deeper crevasses. The drop in temperature beneath the shadow of the cliffs was a timely relief from the blazing sun. Eventually they came to a stop in a sandy basin that had in past times been carved by the rushing of a river. A sliver of daylight from above sliced across the fine sand like a recollection of the water that once flowed.

  Glistening and pulsating, the cloud of colours hung in the air as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgement. Eirik gazed about him before tapping Lady Latrine’s flank to have her sit down. With a soft bleat she sank onto to the sand, allowing him to approach their guide.

  “This is a good spot to rest. I don’t know if you understand me, but thank you all the same.”

  Ruefin slide gracelessly from the saddle and dragged himself across the sand until his back rested against the cool stone wall. His fingers fumbled with his canteen until Eirik took it from him, pulled the stopped and held it to his lips.

  “Finish it off,” he said, knowing the heat radiating from his friend’s tired face had nothing to do with the sun. The water helped though, and Ruefin straightened up and began unwinding himself from his travel-stained clothes.

  “That feels better. Thought my brains were going to boil in my skull,” he said, managing to crack a smile.

  “Yeah, there’s still time for that,” Eirik replied, corking the empty vessel. His stomach growled and he reached for the trail rations, silently cursing that everything was dried. Dried fruit, dry biscuit, dried smoked meat, and a bag of dates so compressed they’d become a black sticky lump. Every bite needed water and they had only the remains of Eirik’s canteen left.

  “What’s our twinkly friend doing over there?”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Eirik watched the lights drop to the ground where the sand met the rock wall A faint musical jingling rebounded from the stone as the colours began to spin rapidly and kick up a spiral of grains. The sand was cool and yielding beneath Eirik’s fingers, and the music became louder as he began to scoop the sand away. Realisation dawned on him and he began to dig in earnest, his determination increasing as the sand became denser, cooler, and eventually damp. It took him the better part of an hour but Eirik found himself up to his elbows in cold water. The trench he’d dug was nearly three feet deep and the breath rasped in his throat by the time he sat back on his heels in triumph.

  “Things are looking up,” he said, brushing sand from his hands. “Ruefin?” He spun around to see his friend’s head on one side, eyes closed. “Ruefin!” Eirik soaked the corner of his robe and leaped to the big man’s side, wiping the wet fabric over the dusty skin.

  “What?” came the reply as the tired eyes opened. “Can’t a man take a nap in the afternoon? Oh that’s pleasant.”

  “You fucker! I thought you were dead!”

  “I’m not done yet, pal. So there’s water down there?”

  “Yeah. Give me your headscarf. I’ll use it as a filter and get our bottles filled. The rations will go down better with a good drink.”

  With a half decent meal inside them, Eirik and Ruefin lay in the shade listening to the faint singing of their strange visitor and the soft squelching of the camels chewing cud.

  “What do you think that thing is?” Ruefin asked, drowsy eyes watching the lights hovering a few feet away.

  “I’m not sure, but I think we’re being led somewhere very specific,”

  The question was, why?