The black sand radiated a perpetual haze of heat, Stathis sweltering, even in just her breastplate, gauntlets, boots and helm. Trying to cover the metal with fabric had helped a little, to stop the amount of sunlight that hit the bright metal and made it even hotter. The padding she wore beneath the armour did something to stop it burning her skin, but that was heavy with her own sweat, leaving her broiling and sodden.

Janaxia was faring far better – partially because her light robes were far more comfortable in the heat, an elegant parasol being held by Sen keeping the sun off her. But mostly probably because she was sat on her floating black disk, cross-legged like a sage. She even had a small silver bucket, condensation beading down the side, the sight of the ice making Stathis’ lips feel cracked and parched.

The rest of the army was marching around them, although in very loose formation. In truth, it was less an “army” than collection of several dozen different groups, each with their own organisational structure, marching behind different banners. Zarazonnia’s personal forces were more disciplined then the others, managing to mostly march in formation, and with some attempt at regularised equipment.

The others were far more ad-hoc, each containing several smaller groups, with very different sets of gear. Some looked prepared for proper combat, with armour and weapons. Others had weapons more suited for arena combat, all far too flashy and impractical for actual use and terrible against multiple opponents. The supply train was all under Zarazonnia’s command as well, a strange mix of wagons drawn by big, scaly beasts that plodded along with a slow and steady gait, and overly-ornate and baroque golden barges, some magic keeping them hovering, wizards having to tend to them constantly to keep them hovering above the ground, or change their direction whenever the formation slowly curved.

What little wind there was made it even worse, stirring up miniature dust storms of black grains of sand. They were stinging and vicious, scraping at Stathis’ armour, making her raise a hand to prevent any blowing into her helmet, although she could feel grains of the stuff working down into her armour and padding. She was starting to see the appeal of the lighter clothing the others favoured, although she did like being properly protected from attack despite the sweltering heat.

They were following the remnants of a road – it was impossible to see beneath the black sand, but Stathis could feel the stone beneath her feet, and whenever she stepped off it, the ground suddenly became sand, shifting and treacherous, far more of a strain to move in. The desert itself seemed to stretch off as far as she could see, the unnerving black sand radiating waves of heat, making a shimmering haze appear on the horizon.

Stathis dropped back a bit, walking closer to Janaxia’s hovering platform. The shadows beneath Janaxia seemed darker than they should be, thicker and blacker, but that might just be an unusual form of heat-haze, or some spell Janaxia was using to keep herself cool, maybe? It didn’t seem worth the trouble of poking the shape to find out, either way.

Janaxia was revelling in her position, an elaborate veil and headdress covering her face and supporting her hair, sufficiently dark fabric that the grains of dust didn’t show up on it, an occasional swirl of magic ruffling the material to clean it off.

Stathis reached out and touched the bucket of ice, feeling the chill start to conduct itself through the metal, glad of even the slightest relief from the oppressive heat, hammering down and around her.

‘Sure you can’t make that thing bigger? Be nice not to have to walk.’

Janaxia’s back stiffened. ‘Some magics are sufficiently advanced that they cannot be altered without extensive study. Nor am I your packmule, to carry you at your convenience.’ She pulled the ice bucket away from Stathis, taking out a cube and lifting her veil to slide it into her mouth before letting the silk drop back into position. The veil hid her expression, although her eyes could be seen through it, looking down at Stathis as she crunched through the ice. ‘If you wish, I could summon Mavrosa for you? It would be best if you were in best fighting condition, should anything threaten me. I hear some of the beasts here can be exceptionally vicious.’

Stathis could hear countless feet stamping and sliding over sand and stone – any beasts wouldn’t be coming near so many people, and bandits or raiders would probably have better things to do than come anywhere near such a large group.

‘She can manage heat and sand?’

‘I would imagine so.’ Janaxia began to incant, her silken robes twirling in a breeze, fingers dancing through eldritch patterns. Dark energy formed, blending in with the pitch-black sand, swiftly shaping itself into Mavrosa’s shape, already stepping so as to keep up, hooves pushing aside plumes of sand.

Stathis held up her hand, and let the gauntlet be licked, before pulling herself up into the saddle. She pulled on the reins as Mavrosa’s head swung towards Janaxia, who recoiled away from the pink tongue of the horse, managing to remain un-slobbered.

From up here, she had more of a view, showing the full diversity of the army – not just the soldiers in mostly-normal gear, albeit with frequently strange weapons, but more unusual combatants. She could see one group in bright crimson robes, edged with flashing gold, surrounded by their own individual heat-hazes. Every one of them had bright brass horns on their head – probably ornamental, but Stathis wouldn’t want to bet on it without going and checking. They didn’t have anything Stathis recognised as weapons, but all had brilliantly shiny metal rings hanging from their waists – maybe there were wizards of some kind, and that was what they used to cast spells? Another group was wearing dark-coloured cloaks, hard to see against the black sands, looking eerily like parts of the ground were moving.

Another group was mounted on smaller lizards – these ones only had two legs, moving with swift legs, arms ending with savage-looking claws. Both steeds and riders were diminutive, but would probably be ferocious in combat. The claws might not be sharp enough to slice through plate, but would make a mess of any exposed flesh, and looked fast enough to dart into a spear-line and start attacking the infantry. They could probably function as effective line-breakers against enemy formations.

As a whole, the group seemed to be lacking heavy infantry, and any obvious form of massed firepower. They must be planning on using spellcasting to make up for those lacks? And no siege weapons either, but Zarazonnia could do some of the work of one herself, with her strength and spell-casting. She probably couldn’t batter down a castle wall, but with six enchanted swords, she could probably hack down a portcullis or door, at least given some time.

Numbers were hard to tell – even those Stathis would have assumed were camp followers looked capable of fighting in some way, either with weapons, or carrying wands of bright crystal or twisted metal. They seemed to be travelling light, without a massive luggage train – some wagons, carts and eldritch barges, but not the massive amount of logistical backup needed to keep large numbers of people fed a long way away from home. And water as well – there were at least some capable of summoning up ice, but not in the vast amounts needed to keep an army well-watered.

Stathis heard a sudden commotion, the ring of steel and the sharp sounds of magical incantations. She looked towards the source of the noise, Janaxia’s disk rising higher up as she tried to hide her own interest.

A dune of black sand had erupted, worn ruins visible beneath, eroded pillars supporting a cracked and uneven roof. Bone, scoured clean by the sand, gleamed stark white against the black sands, skeletons pitching themselves into the nearest group of soldiers. Neither group was moving with much discipline or in tight formation, a few magical blasts shooting towards the skeletons.

Stathis considered charging in to help, but the scrum was happening far enough away that she doubted she’d be able to make it there in any decent time, especially with the other groups in the way. Several of them were moving to help, or at least shout abuse and encouragement from close by, bone rattling as the skeletons fought.

Ancient tombs. This apparently used to be rather less desolate, and there are old palaces and tombs and suchlike beneath the sands. Occasional treasures to be found, but also guardians and the like. And the sand seems likely to be rather intrusive and uncomfortable.

Stathis watched the combat – all those involved were moving with some degree of competency, but there was no overarching sense of discipline or order. The “formations” consisted mostly of the presumptive leaders at the centre of their followers. Competent enough, and probably effective enough at small-scale combats, but they would be incredibly vulnerable at larger scale, where each could be picked off individually.

The skeletons fought in much the same way, their leader wearing the remnants of armour and swinging a two-handed sword. It smashed into someone, knocking them aside. Zarazonnia had slithered to a stop at a distance, not taking part but watching, all of her arms crossed, her honour guard around her, actually keeping a formation together.

The skeleton leader seemed to be a tough opponent, but was struggling against the number of opponents. It swung the blade again, this time the attack getting blocked – even that had enough force to make the defender stagger, but two others surged past and swung heavy mauls at bony legs, shattering bones to powder and crippling the undead creature. It collapsed to the ground, sinking slightly into the sand, still fighting. Another swing of a maul, a full overhead drop, smashed a skull to dust, and movement stopped.

Once the fight was over, the survivors dragged away anyone that had been downed – those still alive were patched up as much as possible, those that were dead getting wrapped in sheets and tossed into the back of one of the wagons, a few black-robed individuals drifting closer already, probably hoping for intact bodies that could raise for themselves, negotiating with the allies of the slain for access. Where the bodies had lain was tinged with green, thin blades of grass springing out from the sand.

Hmm, I am surprised that you didn’t charge to the rescue. That seems to be your preference.

‘Too damn hot! And they seemed to have it in hand.’ Being on Mavrosa was a bit better than being on foot, her feet not sinking into the sand with every step, although Mavrosa’s own footing seemed a bit shaky. She patted the horse on the neck, setting her into a gentle trot, keeping up with Janaxia’s platform. ‘You not wanting to show off?’

‘I do not “show off”! I merely show my powers in skilful and precise fashion, when needed. And my mighty powers were scarcely needed for such a minor fracas. I must conserve my strength for when it is needed.’

‘And do you have any idea when they might actually be needed? I think Zarazonnia seems pretty sensible, but what happens if she’s a bit cracked and we’re marching out here without the supplies to get back? We seem awfully light on water to be travelling far, and I’ve not seen any oases or anywhere to top up.’

‘I’m sure she has a plan. If nothing else, it seems preferable to travelling by ourselves.’ She turned her head to catch the breeze that Sen was generating with her fan, her hair rippling, as black as the surrounding sands. ‘I had never seen the black sands before, but I can see their reputation for being harsh terrain is well earned.’ She helped herself to another ice cube from her bucket, rubbing it along her collarbone before popping it into her mouth.

‘Seems a lot easier for you! Try foot-slogging it if you want to find out how rough it, rather than floating along being fanned, and with ice on hand.’

‘I can scarcely be blamed if they have a high respect for wizards of high birth.’ She played with her hair, twining a curl around a horn, the dark bone glossy black and catching the sun. She was too far away for Stathis to reach out and touch, but she did wonder how hot the horns got. There was still jewellery twisted around them, golden chains and medallions shaking about as Janaxia moved her head, which must be getting burningly hot in the burning sunlight.

‘Does that still count? I’d assume you’re not in your mother’s best graces at the moment, after whatever the hell happened.’

‘I am still of the Uth Tremari blood.’ Janaxia’s poise wasn’t quite perfect though, a slight look of worry coming over her features. Although it seems as though she will likely attempt to murder me should we meet again. I don’t suppose…?

‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you. Although she’s powerful enough she can still take both of us. She managed to hold off Zarazonnia! If she does show up, we’re getting the hell out of there.’

I will see that Skotadi is avenged.

‘That’s understandable. Just don’t do anything that will get us killed – if she shows up suddenly, we need to evade until we can do something. It would be helpful to deal with her though. Any idea how likely any killing of her is going to be stick? I’d expect her to come back and be even more pissed off.’

‘That does seem likely. Although if she were to be defeated once, that might buy us some time, at least. And the chance to ensure she is missing some of her most potent magical items.’

‘Don’t get too sticky-fingered, she might have cursed them or something! Do you think she might do anything like teleport in at night and attack?’

‘I would hope not! Although she has never, to my knowledge, displayed the ability to transport to a person rather than a location. So we should be safe enough while on the road. But I will strive to punish her!’ Janaxia’s hands tightened – her fingernails were currently black, trimmed with red lines, delicate runes traced onto the lacquered shapes.

‘I’m not sure if “punish” is quite right – she wants us dead, seems safest to repay the favour. At least if we can! We might have to deal with some of your siblings first.’

Janaxia’s smile was a little too tight, the trace of a canine visible. ‘With you by my side, then I’m sure such matters can be dealt with. Few have much in the way of battlefield experience, so your blade will likely put them to flight. And that armour is rather dashing, although a little bright to look at!’

‘It’s roasting hot, and metal. Unless you can conjure up ice for me to keep me cool, I’m not wearing a full harness. Even with Mavrosa, it’s too damn hot to march in.’

‘Hmph. Zarazonnia seems to manage.’

Zarazonnia’s breastplate shone in the sun, bright enough to daze Stathis for a moment, the woman’s serpentine lower-half brilliant green stained with dark sand.

‘She’s half-snake, and all demon! Snakes like heat, she probably enjoys it. It’s making me melt. At least she seems to dislike your mother as well – I wouldn’t want to face the two of them together.’

‘Quite. Although as you did mention Poratia, I would appreciate it if you were to stand guard on me overnight. In case she attempts to send some creature to slay me, now that we are beyond the wards of the city walls.’

‘Um, I will need to sleep myself. Can’t you set up a ward or something? I’ve seen Hakara do that.’ Janaxia’s look was decidedly unfriendly. ‘Fine, I’ll do what I can. Can’t you ask Zarazonnia for some guards though? She likes you.’

‘She has warned me that there may be some elements within the army that are less-than-well disposed towards me, or towards this whole expedition, and so may attempt foul play of some kind.’

‘Like slitting your throat in the night? OK, that’s worrying. Fine, I’ll try and keep an eye on you. Means you’ll be on dungeon shifts though – no lazy mornings, especially if I’m having to stay up! Zarazonnia still not told you where we’re going?’

‘No, she is being remarkably coy. But she seems to be very assured of herself, so I doubt it’s madness of any kind.’

Now that the skeletons had been defeated and whatever was in their tomb taken, everyone was moving forward again. Where the combat had happened, flecks of colour bloomed amidst the ash-black sands, tiny and delicate flowers bright and stark.

They moved passed the ancient ruins, the stone pitted and eroded by centuries of blowing sand. Another wizard bent their figures through arcane gestures, a bead of smoke and fire appearing in front of them. It shot forward, into the dark entranceway before an explosion sounded out. Stone cracked, black grit blowing outwards, and the construction started to crack, stone falling in on itself as the building gave way, sinking back beneath the sand dune.