Egalo brushed his overgrown bush of hair out of his eyes. Heat waves blurred the air as sand and dirt caked his throat. His bare back sweating profusely and his trousers clung to his legs. He reached for his canteen but there was only a drop left. It was only morning as well; he would have plenty more digging by nightfall. He didn't dare stop to rest for a moment longer, he could feel the Worm's eyes upon him as he worked. The long, curled whip was clutched tightly in his fist always, desperate for any excuse to flex its powerful snap upon someone's back.

Egalo had no inkling how long he had been working as a slave in the Carnakane deserts, but it felt like at least two weeks. Most of the slave men he had talked to had told him he'd be lucky to see a month of living as a slave out here. The heat was unruly, and the sun took its toll on the men. They were fed one meal a day, and it was rare not to receive the whip at least once a week. The Worm was what they called him. No one knew his real name, at least the slave men didn't. Egalo had been whipped once in his first week, and he had made every effort to avoid such a torture again.

He thought he had found something of value when he struck something hard in one of his pits. He was about four feet into the pit, and his shovel would dig no further. He made his way to the Forager's Tent. Randor Redcloak sat comfortably in the shade upon his seat, but even with the shade he could not avoid the deathly heat. The deeply etched lines on his face showed his exhaustion.

"I think I found something..." Egalo stared at Randor before lowering his gaze once Randor's eyes met his.

"Well, where is it, Egalo son of Elgamar?" he loved to say the last part as if it was something to be mocked of, but Egalo had never seen it that way. He despised the way Randor Redcloak said it though, especially sitting in the comfort of the shade with his legs propped up and red wine spilling from his cup and staining his scarred lips.

"I can't get to it. It's stuck deep within the ground. I believe it is a chest of some sort. It's a large chest, I'm almost certain."

Randor gave an exasperated heave as he pulled himself out from his seated position to have a look for himself.

"This better be for real, boy. I know you are new around here, but if this is some stunt you're pulling then I'll have your back skinned."

Egalo suddenly wished he hadn't come to the Forager's Tent. He had naively figured it had to be something of worth, but now he dreaded Randor's inspection.

Randor hopped into the pit and knocked at the hard lump in the ground. After a minute or so Randor let out a low rumbling that sounded something like laughter.

"Ohhhh, foolish boy. You won't last a month out here if you are deceived this easily. That is a rock, lad. Egalo, lord son of Elgamar."

Egalo heard footsteps crunching under the caked desert dirt and to his horror he looked up to see The Worm approaching with his whip. The rest of the slave men slowly stopped their work. They watched on as The Worm approached Egalo, with the most cynical of smirks on his face. He hated the way his smiled seemed to wrap around his face. He was a thick, burly man—certainly not someone he would entertain a brawl with.

The rule was that one man's punishment was the other men's rest. In that moment, every slave man in the desert land took their leave and watched on in horror but with equal relief that they were granted a break from the labor.

The whipping went on for a quarter of an hour. Around twenty strokes had left Egalo's back a mesh of flappy skin and blood. The sun continued to scorch his torn skin as he returned to his labor, certain that The Worm's eyes remained on him the rest of the evening's work, desperate for any opportunity to bring him to the whip a second time. That would surely be his end. Egalo barely clung to his life as the delicate flesh of his back melted under the beating sun.

Yet, that was now a week ago. With each day his back healed a fair bit more, but he didn't know how much longer he could withstand the labor underneath the scorching sun.

One night in the tents, Egalo nestled down in his usual spot, upon an old rag for a blanket, cramped for room. The tent would barely fit two men, but they cramped five, every man desperate to sleep inside the safety of the tents. The Carnakane deserts were a ruthless place at night. The creatures of the night that lurked outside the tents ensured no man escaped the imprisonment.

Egalo asked one of the slave men in his tent one night, "Why does no one attempt to run at night? Do the masters not go up into the caves above and leave us unattended?"

The slave man named Baradorn replied from the other end of the small tent, "Foolish is he who attempts an escape by night. Those lands are littered with night terrors and creatures beyond your wildest imagination."

Egalo reflected on that for a time. "Has anyone ever escaped?" Baradorn was already shaking his head. "No, my friend. If they did, there is no way they would make it out of the Carnakanes. The lands are disorienting, and great sandstorms will swallow you whole. Have you ever heard the tale of the Devil's Sands?" Egalo shook his head curiously. His eyes gave away his fear at the sound of it. Baradorn chuckled.

"Harod tells it best." Baradorn looked towards a man who sat with a sullen, pouty face to his right. He sat with his back against the tent and his knees to his chest. He began in a sulky tone.

"Long, long ago there were men here before lord Dagnar. It is said the men hailed from Enka—a continent no longer around, it was swallowed by the Sweeping Sea. Anyhow, these men bore a great gift from the Modena's finest necromancer when they crossed the Sweeping Sea from Enka. The necromancer had crafted powerful stones that contain powers that he grafted from years and years of spellbinding. The men accepted his gift, though not believing in magic they failed to take the proper precaution with the stones. They carried them nonetheless, on their journey across Modena. They were seeking to adventure to the Meadows of Mestrane, for everyone on the god's planet knows of the power within the land. Along the way, they used the powerful stones as gifts to gain free passage and supplies to carry their journey."

Egalo's eyes were wide with intrigue. Harod had dropped his sullen tone as he begun to get into the flow of his story. Baradorn stared motionless at his feet, all ears for the tale he had surely heard many times before.

"The men continued south across Modena, until they arrived in the Carnakane deserts. The King came across a group of nomads in the middle of the great sands of the Carnakanes, and it is said the King was without a queen, for she died in childbirth. During the encounter with the nomads, the King fell in love with a woman of great beauty—bronze skin and mighty blue pearls for eyes with black silk hair. He offered her his last stone as a token of his love for her, and she accepted it and continued on with the King and his people as they journeyed south."

Egalo interrupted with a question, "Why did the King just hand out the stones freely? Surely he could have felt their power."

Harod was already shaking his head in frustration, "look, boy, this is how the story goes. I don't know every detail of the story; it is from eons ago. Just listen."

He began again, "It is said as he passed through the Carnakanes there was one night where a great sandstorm swept over the deserts. The tale goes that the final stone that left the possession of King Ertorin became lost within the sands of the desert, and the King and his people have been buried deep beneath the sands ever since. The power of the stone lies within these sands now. The sandstorms come and go as the weight and power of the stone grows restless, buried all that way beneath the sands. That is why we dig, day after day, in search of the stones of Erortin."

Egalo sat mystified, his eyes darting between Baradorn and Harod. The other two men had already fallen asleep, their bodies sprawled out across the small tent.

"It would be wise to get some sleep, Egalo. The night is late, and we dig at first light, per usual. Sleep well, Egalo, son of Elgamar."