II. The Crimson Sands (Chapter One)

Thanks to Quatal, Burt spent most of the night obsessing over his card collection and stayed up until the early morning hours. Before giving the sun a chance to rise, you wake Burt from his slumber. Today is a day for an early start. You and Burt spend the early morning gathering supplies for the journey and information about the Crimson Sands. According to a merchant at a nearby stall, the Crimson Sands is a treacherous place, even for the most experienced southern whiskers.

“I’m no historian, but the story goes something like this.” The old merchant throws his arms around you and Burt and draws you closer.

His breath still smells of last night’s, or this morning’s, ale. As an attempt to not gag, you pretend to scratch your nose, but it’s only to block the smell.

“Long ago, sunbreath dragons roamed the desert. Due to the lack of prey in the desert, the dragons began to use their flame breath to scorch the sand and drive the creatures beneath it to the surface. Their hunting technique would turn the surface sand into glass. Over the next couple of centuries, as the dragon's numbers declined, whiskers with adventure on their minds traveled south seeking treasure. Over the years, blood spilt by travelers and desert creatures alike slowly stained the sand with blood, and so the Crimson Sands were born.”

You give Burt a suspicious look as the merchant continues.

“Now, I don’t know why you all are going in that direction, but beware. The sandsharks aren’t something you can win a fight against.” The merchant looks you both in the eye.

“Hold on.” Burt turns to you. “Didn’t we already cross through reddish-looking sand on the way down here?”

You think to yourself, then nod.

“It was when we were being chased!” Burt releases himself from the merchant’s smelly huddle. “I kept my eyes closed most of the time, but we’ve already been through there. It’s not that bad. There certainly weren’t any dragons, old whisker!”

“I did say it was long ago,” the merchant rebuts.

“Come on, Adventurer. Let’s get going before it gets even hotter outside.” Burt grabs you by the arm and leads you to the exit.

You and Burt make your way to the stable for the lamek. Amalhasu is bustling, even though it’s so early in the morning. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and most of the city is still in the shade. You notice many whiskers with dark circles under their eyes, almost like they’re possessed. They look like they could use a long night’s rest and a large bowl of soup.

“Would you like to buy this golden ring?” One of the sleepless whiskers aggressively shoves a display of rings in you and Burt’s faces.

“No, thank you,” says Burt as he quickens his pace to the stables.

Once you arrive, you waste no time hopping onto the back of the lamek.

“Backseat again?” Burt rolls eyes. You scoot to the back of the lamek to appease Burt. “Alright now!” he says as he hops up. “Attention all passengers, please refrain from feeding the lamek as it will have horrible gas. Please pay attention to the front, back, and sides of the lamek at all times,” Burt says, mimicking Allard’s voice. You both laugh and begin your journey north toward the Crimson Sands.

The desert wind howls as the sand dances across the dunes. The voyage would’ve been impossible without your sandshark cloaks from Allard, as the overwhelmingly scorching heat pours from the sun like a waterfall. It is quiet, almost too quiet. According to the intoxicated merchant, you should have seen pirates or sandsharks by now. At the crest of every dune, you can see the reddish sands in the distance growing closer. It isn’t long until you reach the Crimson Sands. Thanks to the early start, it is only midday by the time you begin your search for the Highland coffee tree.

“Nothing can live out here. That Zul’gus guy is pulling our fins,” Burt says, already sounding exhausted. “I swear, that Quatal whisker just doesn’t want me in the tournament because he’s heard of Big Moves Burt.”

You roll your eyes and continue observing the sands. The lamek crests another dune as Burt commands it to stop.

“There!” Burt shouts and points toward the west.

You don’t see anything resembling a plant in that direction, but Burt motions for the lamek to head in that direction. Burt laughs and cheers about how easy the mission was and talks about returning to Amalhasu early.

“One more dune!” Burt shouts.

Finally the lamek crosses over the last dune so you can finally see what Burt was pointing at. However, you don’t see anything. Out of excitement, Burt hops off the lamek and rolls down the dune to the bottom.

“Where did it go?” Burt says, combing his hand through the sand. “It was right here!”

You look at Burt confused and concerned. You never saw anything there in the first place.

“Oh wait! Over there!” Burt yells and jets over to the other side of the valley. He falls to his knees and wipes away a layer of sand. “Wait? How is this happening?”

You drive the lamek toward Burt, worrying he may have lost his mind. You hop off the animal and grab Burt’s shoulders, shaking him to wake up from this chaotic dream, when you hear a voice behind you.

“It’s a mirage,” the voice says.

You and Burt turn around to find the desert valley covered in billowing clouds, impairing your vision. From the haze, a dark whisker with specks of orange steps forward, holding a steaming mug in his hand. Your stomach drops, as if you had just run into a pirate.

“Your friend, “ he points to Burt, “he’s seeing what he desires. However, it’s not real.” The whisker glides in the cloud toward you and Burt.

You freeze, unsure of what to do. The whisker comes close and gives the mug to Burt for him to drink. Burt looks just as confused as you, but accepts the mug. One quick swig, and it seems Burt’s confusion is gone.

“Is that coffee?” Burt asks.

“It is,” the whisker says, “but not just coffee; it’s Highland coffee.” The whisker turns around and walks away, leaving you and Burt speechless. After a few paces, he turns around. “Are you coming?”

You and Burt snap out of your daze and follow the strange cloudy whisker to a nearby cave. Somehow you and Burt had managed to ride right past it on the way to Burt’s mirage. At first glance it looks like there’s no entrance at all, but after further observation the cave mouth is hidden at the base of a large rock, allowing just enough space to slide in.

Inside is a home of sorts. The ceiling, walls, and floor are all made of sandstone. The main room stands a bit taller than a whisker, with other cave halls spread throughout. A hasulian rug with intricate symbols and designs is laid in the middle, while tapestry strung along the walls helps to create an inviting scene.

“Welcome to my home—well, a part of it. These caves stretch pretty far under the desert,” the whisker says as he pours three mugs of tea.

“Who are you?” Burt asks.

“I’m a simple desert whisker. I enjoy the solitude of the desert and the peaceful nights. It’s not often I’m out during daylight; however, I could hear you all approaching from many dunes away,” the whisker replies, handing over the tea.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Burt asks again, sounding more irritated.

“I am called the Southern Seer; my name is Gaius.” The whisker presents a stately hand.

You and Burt honor his greeting and take seats on pillows lying on top of the rug.

“I assume you’ve come to the Crimson Sands looking for the Highland coffee tree. Many travelers who’ve lost something great to thieves are often sent here to fetch the valuable beans in return for their stolen items. I’ve seen many whiskers come and go. Some have found the tree; others have been poached by pirates, while some have lost their lives to sandsharks. The desert is a dangerous place if you don’t understand it. So tell me, what have you lost that brings you here?”

You nudge Burt to not say anything, however, Burt immediately spills the beans.

“Our map was stolen from us,” Burt says, looking back at you, assuring you that he didn’t give all the information away.

“Must be a special map then, if you’re willing to risk your life for it.” Gaius says, taking a sip of his tea.

“Yeah, I guess you could say it’s one of a kind,” Burt says, winking at you. You roll your eyes at him.

“I had a vision several months ago while in a deep sleep. The sky was gray, the sand was black, and a large marble column stood before me. Perched atop of the column was a golden pyramid.”

Burt’s eyes widen, and his breathing quickens. You notice Burt’s mood change immediately. Burt reaches for his tea but spills it with his shaking hand.

“I’m sorry!” Burt says quickly.

“It’s okay, Burt,” Gaius says. You and Burt both look at Gaius suspiciously.

“I never told you my name, Gaius,” Burt says.

Gaius smiles, “I only know you from my dreams, Burt. I am a seer; you shouldn’t be surprised. I knew I would meet you all today. The only thing I’m unsure of is why.”

Burt stands up. “The Atlas of Old was stolen from us! The only way to get back is to…”

Gaius puts his hand up to stop Burt. “The Atlas of Old was stolen? How could you let that happen? The Atlas of Old is one of the most important artifacts in The Great Pond!”

You raise your hands, motioning for Burt to sit down again. You take your time explaining the situation to Gaius.

“It’s in the hands of a vendor on the streets in Amalhasu?” Gaius asks.

You both nod.

“And the only way to get it back is with some beans from the Highland coffee tree?” Gaius asks.

You both nod again.

Gaius lets out a long sigh and walks over to a cupboard.

“Here, take this. It should be more than enough.” He hands you a hefty hessian sack. You sniff deeply. The rich aroma of coffee is intoxicating. “Listen to me, both of you.”

You and Burt sit up straight.

“The Atlas of Old will bring peace to The Great Pond. Conversely, in the wrong hands, it can bring destruction. It wasn’t happenstance that Master Allard suddenly became interested in this artifact. It was I who saw the dream and sent word.” Gaius looks over to Burt, “Dreams have meaning; you must be willing to accept the message and interpret it correctly. Especially when there’s a golden pyramid.”

“What does the pyramid mean?” Burt asks, wary of the answer he’ll receive.

“It can mean many things; it depends on the individual. However, if you possess the Mark of the Phoenix,” you and Burt look at each other again, “I can only imagine it means you will play a huge part in saving The Great Pond, or in destroying it.”

“Perfect. I can’t wait,” Burt says sarcastically.

“Now hurry back to Amalhasu and get the atlas before it falls into the wrong hands,” Gaius says as he shoos you and Burt out of the cave. “And don’t let this happen again!”