The Burnt World of Athas

The gap between the Stormclaw and Black Spine Mountains is some fifteen miles wide, and those who have never been there must wonder why the route through is termed a ‘pass’, or why Nibenay bothers to maintain a fort to guard the road.

As dawn broke over the distant Black Spine Mountains, we stripped the dead sand devils of their weapons and armour – their iron blades alone would more than pay for the cargo I had defiled – and dragged their corpses out into the desert a couple of hundred yards from the road.

The mountains had grown from a blurred, uneven line on the horizon to a recognisable part of the landscape by the time the sun sank beneath the western horizon.

The skimmer’s crew took the news surprisingly well. Neren and Enamdis called a brief halt and gathered them together below the quarterdeck to explain what was likely chasing us and to make preparations for a possible night attack.

We heard the cry of the lookout, perched upon his small platform near the top of the skimmer’s mainmast, and saw the vessel alter course towards us.

We heard the cry of the lookout, perched upon his small platform near the top of the skimmer’s mainmast, and saw the vessel alter course towards us.