Red Sands Below

By Marcus D Barnes

Follow the Wayfarers, an eclectic group of young adventurers, as they journey from the temperate continent of Corillis, to the desert realm of Moonsa.

Seeking adventure, they soon find themselves in way over their heads.

Can they find the means to foil the dark and complex plans of mighty powers?

Book 1 of the Wayfarer Trilogy.

Book 2 - Grey Skies Above - is out now
Book 3 - The Hunt for Sarkli - is in progress

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marcus D Barnes
• Release date: Aug 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476425269

Marcus D Barnes

Fantasy, and to a lesser extent Science-Fiction, have inspired me from an early age. From the late seventies to the late nineties I became heavily involved in Fantasy Role Playing and created and ran several extensive, gripping and enjoyable campaigns - some of this can be seen reflected in my novels. Me? I am a mature male, born and raised in the south of England before migrating to New Zealand in 2001. In 2020, I returned to England, after 18 years in New Zealand and Australia. My wife and sons provide a lot of inspiration and support. I write when I have time and when the inspiration takes me. I have many unfinished works, which I hope to make available in time.

Book preview

Red Sands Below

by Marcus D Barnes

A Wayfarers Novel

Copyright 2012-2017 Marcus D Barnes

Smashwords Edition

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Index

1] Discoveries

2] A Dark Force Awaits

3] Of Water and Air

4] The Hall of Sand

5] A Dark Moon

6] In the still of night

7] Dark Greetings

8] Sand Trap

9] In Deep

10] Unmasked

11] Tales to Tell

12] Gone but not forgotten

13] Into the Fire

14] A light in the dark

15] Darkness and Light

16] Back in the Palace of Wood

17] Dark Thoughts

18] The Clans

19] Reunited

20] Divided

21] Red Moon

22] Aftermath

23] Coronation

Appendices

Corillis Map

Flint's Tale

Chapter one

Discoveries

The icy wind howled through the pines.

Flint didn’t notice the cold, being a creature of the mountains, but the noise could mask the approach of enemies. He’d best stay vigilant, to ensure that he and his companions survived the night.

Glancing across the hilltop clearing, he saw that Semuan, his fellow guard, was also keeping a close watch.

Their companions were camped in the middle of the clearing, centred around the soft amber glow of the fire pit. Some were sitting, some were talking and some were lying in their sacks, asleep or just resting.

Their three-hour watch ended when Eron and Galdda took over for the dawn shift. Flint and Semuan warmed themselves over the fire and, after a mug of ale and some trail rations, settled into their own sacks, to rest for an hour or so before sunrise.

Memories of the past few weeks returned, unbidden, to Flint as he lay…

§

Flint was a noble knight of Rashad – an underground city in the volcanic Galaposs Mountains.

He had eventually, after a century or so, grown weary of his staid and regimented life and sought to explore the wider world. After much petitioning of his elders and the high priest, he was allowed to leave, on condition that he reported back at least once every decade.

With a high level of excitement and high hopes, he set out on his journey into the outer world.

A century of military training had honed his physique, and he bore his burdens with ease. In typical Dwarf fashion, he had brought a good deal of military equipment with him.

His defences, all of superior Dwarven manufacture, consisted of an engraved and enruned steel breastplate, over a short coat of chainmail on a padded doublet. Steel vambraces protected his lower arms and a large black kite shield, with the familial device of a white anvil, was slung at his back.

His offence was equally impressive; a heavy crossbow, a flail with two weights - in the shapes of Orc and Dragon heads - and a knife, or two. He also knew a few of the minor incantations of his priesthood.

§

Leaving Rashad in the distance, Flint followed the main trade route into the town of Alarit, a road he knew from his ocassional travels with the ore wagons, and then on to the capital, Tir. He only knew two things about the city; it was reported to be the oldest human settlement on Corillis and it had been built around a pinnacle of stone, 'the Shoulder of Eternity'.

Between Alarit and Tir, two cutpurses stepped out into the road in front of him, but they fled as soon as he hefted his flail and shield.

§

Tir was vast and bewildering. The high outer wall, three miles in diameter, could be seen from over a day's march away – looming ever larger as one approached.

The guards on the main gate had been too casual for Flint's liking, friendly and welcoming - if a little surprised to see a five foot tall, two hundred and fifty pound, fully-armoured Dwarf - but still too casual. Tir was the safest haven in a relatively safe part of the land, but there was no reason to be complacent.

The inner city was no less marvellous. It had expanded much over the years and the original boundary wall had been supplanted four times so far. The last was half a mile from its predecessor and there was still a vast expanse of open land to fill.

The architecture, of course, could not begin to rival the underground vaults and temples of Rashad, but the difference in style was refreshing and the heavy stone construction reassuring. As he progressed, the air gradually filled with the smells and sounds of humanity.

No guards at all at the second gate! The lack of security was becoming a concern. Flint was used to far stricter security than this! Passing through, he became embroiled in the busy Merchants’ quarter.

Wide, foot-worn, cobbled streets were flanked by all manner of stores and the spaces between was filled with brightly coloured stalls, their owners - competing loudly for customers. The sheer array of sights and sounds was overwhelming, but it was the smell of hot food that appealed to Flint most - he had been marching on Dwarven biscuits for six days. A strange place indeed, but he felt an affinity with its busy streets.

He had an excellent meal and several flagons of ale in a crowded tavern, before heading off to find a good, solid bed.

§

Over the coming days, Flint had discovered that the three inner walls were successively stronger, taller and - to his liking - better guarded. Apparently, over the centuries, as the city grew, the perceived threats became less and the walls became more boundary markers, than defensive features.

He had purchased many fine things - most were of a rather temporary, consumable nature - and he had made the acquaintances of several folk who seemed to be on similar voyages of discovery. He often met these travellers in the merchant quarter, sometimes passing an hour or two with them in an inn.

§

He had been in Tir for nigh on a week and had already explored much of the city when his situation suddenly changed…

On this fine, drizzly, morning he was stretching his legs after a hearty breakfast. His feet had led him down, once more, to the already busy Merchants’ quarter. He could see several of his new friends and was about to strike up a conversation with an attractive human lady he knew as Galdda when....

....The flow of life through the busy street had momentarily halted in order to allow an ornate carriage through. Many gave their respects to the driver as it passed and he acknowledged them with a smile, a nod or a wave. He was a proud, handsome and obviously noble man, with a strong athletic build, flowing black hair down to his shoulders and a pencil moustache. He wore a black surcoat with an emblem of the Staff and the Acorn - that of the Royal Guard.

There was a sudden, groaning, ‘crack’, as the rear wheel nearest to Flint shattered onto the cobbles. The carriage lurched, dropping several large cases onto the street. The skittered horses made a bid for freedom, but were expertly reined in by the driver, who then vaulted down onto the cobbles to inspect the damage.

With a shake of his head, he turned and instructed a young boy to Run and fetch the wheelwright. The boy, ran as asked. The nobleman then beckoned Flint and several others - including some of his new friends - Come, give me a hand with this baggage.

Flint and the others did as asked, without question and within moments they were emptying the fully laden carriage. The nobleman grabbed two of the heaviest cases and set off, shouting Follow me - to the Citadel.

They marched, ever upwards, with the heavy cases, finally arriving at the innermost wall. The group were all, to varying degrees, out of breath and perspiring. Leaning heavily against the cool stone wall of the gate-house, they took a rest, much to the amusement of the liveried guards within. The nobleman, perhaps perspiring least, passed around an invigorating flagon of cool, watery liquid and introduced himself as 'Sardil, ambassador of Tir'.

Flint had heard mention of Lord Sardil many times, since arriving in Tir and the spark of recognition in the faces of his compatriots told him that they also knew the name. He was, reputed to be one of the Emperor's closest confidants and his senior Foreign Ambassador. It was rumoured that he had had a lowly beginning, but there was no outward sign of this, in either appearance or manner.

After a short rest, Sardil straightened his clothing and said loudly Thank you all, but I am sure that the guards and I can manage from here. However, you seem to be a worthy lot, if any of you are looking for interesting employment, then seek me here, at nine o'clock tomorrow morning and I will explain more. Now, here is a reward for your efforts. - Sardil handed a purse to Galdda - Go now with Corporal Levine, he will take you to a hostelry where you can freshen up.

§

The, now sullen-faced, guards came, relieved them of their burdens, and followed Sardil into the Citadel. Once they had gone, the one remaining guard introduced himself as Corporal Levine. He at least, seemed happy to have secured a more pleasant task than his fellows Come, follow me, better rest awaits you at 'The Heart'.

The sturdy inner gates shut with a clang behind them. They followed Levine down to a far more affluent district than they were used to frequenting, where many of the goods and services were priced beyond the reach of mere mortals. It was here, that Galdda finally opened the pouch given by Sardil. Inside were four gold wheels, which in turn were each worth four gold pieces. Rich reward indeed, for such short labour.

§

'The Heart' was a very auspicious inn, used to dealing with clientele from the social elite.

Levine - obviously known to the management - vouched for the group and the pampering began. Upon his insistence, everyone was offered new clothes you must look the part tomorrow, if you wish to persue Sardil’s offer. They were then bathed, scrubbed and lastly wined and dined as befitted high ranking nobles.

Introductions were made over dinner and it was revealed that none of Flint's colleagues had long-term plans and, in fact, all were interested in the prospect of employment with Sardil, especially if the rewards were to be this exceptional.

Even after paying for Levine's food and drink - of which he had much - and tipping heavily, there were still two gold wheels left and the group unanimously agreed to fetch their belongings and spend a comfortable night here.

An excellent evening followed, many tales were told, rich food eaten and alcohol consumed - although most tried to stay fairly sober, in readiness for tomorrow’s meeting.

§

Flint's companions were somewhat unusual, perhaps even outlandish. Throughout the evening he had the opportunity to study them each in turn:

First, was Galdda, an attractive, curvy woman in a green velvet gown. She was slightly above average height with long red hair, which framed her freckled face and green eyes. Her smile could disarm a man – a Dwarf anyway - at fifty paces. She said she was 'a Mage, of sorts' and upon returning with her belongings said, I have divined our future and we are blessed, at least for the time being. This then led to a long and hotly contested debate on the worth of such predictions.

Next was Eron, who, as far as Flint could tell, was a blend of Halfling and Wood Elf. He was, pleasingly, much shorter than Flint, but considerably lighter also. He had shoulder length, straw-coloured hair and grey eyes. He wore black breeches, an umber shirt and waistcoat. He professed to being a scout. His right palm was covered by a cryptic blue symbol, which he proclaimed to be lucky.

Further round the table sat Senib, a desert dweller and, as such, a rarity on Corillis. A tall, gangly man with wizardry coursing through him, he would confess only to being a nomadic wanderer, but all could sense his magic. He was dark skinned of course, with a characteristic hooked nose and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. His eyes were pools of black. It was clear that this was a man of great intellect. His most striking feature was his flame red right arm. He was dressed in a long flowing blue-grey robe with star decoration around the edges.

To Senib's left was Darik, a woman from the Weeping Plains - beyond the Morning Desert. She was tall, just shorter than Senib, and slender, ruddy skinned, muscular and had an agile grace. Jet-black hair, cut short and straight, framed her, not unattractive, face. Hazel eyes shone beneath her fringe. She wore a fine buckskin dress and a pair of equally fine leather gloves, which she wore at all times, in contrast to her feet, which were unadorned.

Tala was a man of the northern steppes, typically short, only a few inches taller than flint, and stocky. His body oozed muscles, not a man to pick a fight with! Despite his squat stature, he had exceptional agility. He was also an amusing speaker with an endless supply of campfire tales. His dark hair - matching his eyes - was tied in a topknot. He wore a white silk shirt patterned with embroidered horses, black breeches and tall, polished, black leather boots.

Then came Kai, an attractive oriental woman, slightly thinner and taller than usual for her race, lithe and agile with