Farson moved his horse close to her mount, approaching fromthe side and guarding against an unexpected kick, and gripped the warhorse’s tale. The mare snorted, but she had been through this drill before. Jaliel did likewise with Farson’s horse, and the three began a slow descent from the plateau into the Valley of Lost Men. This formation ensured that no one wandered away blindly, and missteps would be kept to a minimum.
The wind blew blinding clouds of dust at them; small stones, pieces of plants, dried insect carcasses, and a powdery grit like chalk or ash coated their skin and matted in their hair. Twice they found large outcrops of rocks to shelter behind as the wind increased in intensity and the howling in the air made even the well-trained horses paw the ground, nicker and snort. Sandreena patted the nose of her palfrey in reassurance, but she was hardly in a position to reassure anyone, even her mare. The impulse that had driven her to undertake this mission now seemed like an impossibly vain idea. But each time this doubt had risen, she had returned to the same conclusion; there was simply no one else in the order, save herself, Creegan and two other knights whose whereabouts unknown, who could follow up on what that mysterious Kingdom agent had reported, and she was the only one of them in a position to help.
Necromancy and demons were not usually intertwined. Demons took too much delight in devouring the living to leave enough useful remains for a necromancer to employ his arts. As demons always devoured whatever they killed, and quickly.
However, from her studies Sandreena knew there was a great deal of energy used in the dark arts, albeit black and evil, and necromancy was one of the most powerful. Perhaps someone was harnessing death magic to control demons? She left the thought unfinished; she really did not know if it was possible or what it implied, and wished again for five minutes to talk to Amirantha; before she’d strangle him. She became as aggravated with herself as she was with the Warlock: of all the times to start thinking about that bastard again!
The wind began to shift and then started falling away, but Sandreena knew the desert winds in these hot tablelands were unpredictable. However, for now, in the relative lull, free from the worst of the stinging sand, they would better be able to see trouble coming.
She motioned for the others to fall in and started down the trail. The wind game in gusts and swirls, but she could see her way down clearly enough. The path was roughly equivalent in type to the one she had followed up to the fortress from Durbin: it was ancient, eroded by wind and the occasional flash flood, and rarely used. Yet, when the wind died down, there were moments she could see signs that the track had been recently used. A large number of horses and wagons had come this way, and by the look of the hoof marks, they had headed into the valley, but not out of it.
Sandreena wondered who was behind this, and what they were playing at. Durbin was a vermin hole on the Bitter Sea, where the governor made huge profits from looking the other way as smugglers moved contraband into or out of the Empire. It was endemic of Imperial Keshian behaviour, but no matter how many times the Empire sought to reform that office, the mixture of greed, opportunity and distance from the capital, that melded together in that miserable city, always asserted itself. Still, the number of wagons and men coming this way recently was high even by Durbin standards.
Sandreena estimated that there were at least one hundred dead people rotting in the ancient fortress, perhaps more; that amount of movement across the desert should have brought attention. Whoever was behind this incident had managed to prevent the Imperial guards reporting it, which meant that the governor or someone highly placed in his office had looked the other way, either due to bribery or fear…or both.
As they descended the winding trail, following long switchbacks that took them slowly down the mountain, the wind died. It was as if a curtain of blowing sand and dust was suddenly pulled aside.
‘What is that?’ demanded Farson.
‘What, indeed?’ said Sandreena as Jaliel moved forward and halted.
‘Good Goddess!’ He exclaimed.
A massive structure was being erected in the distant heart of the valley. The outline showed that it was a massive fortification of some type, encircling something, but from this distance detail was lost. Four towers were being built, one farther along in construction than the others, and it was clear they would arch over and touch over the centre of…whatever it was.
Farson said, ‘I’m not an engineer, but my da built siege engines for the King, so I know a bit. Those towers…’ he pointed, ‘they can’t do that; they can’t arch over and touch.’
Softly Sandreena said, ‘I won’t mention it to them.’
‘To whom?’ asked Jaliel.
‘Whoever’s building that monstrosity.’
‘I feel like we should be seeking cover,’ said Farson.
Glancing around, Sandreena said, ‘I will be happy to oblige you as soon as you show me some.’