Captain Skarr was worried. It had nearly been a day and he had neither seen nor heard any sign of the Desert Riders. The fact also lay heavily on his conscience that he couldn’t afford to waste time. Suddenly he saw what looked like a flutter of wings. Had it been a Pegasus? Then, he was surrounded by a swirling typhoon of dust which had appeared out of nowhere. Despite the sand, Skarr could now see people all around him. They were moving closer, circling him in. One of them bludgeoned him from behind. Skarr blacked out.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

During the Resistance war, when the Haders were the strongest, they used to attack Mesar hard; causing terrible amounts of destruction. Their main route into Mesar was through the Kren pass. To escape from them, a huge exodus of people fled from Mesar, most of them seeking refuge in the Arkon desert. Many of them did not survive. The desert was merciless. Only the strongest and the luckiest lived long enough till they found the Pegasii; flying horses which aided them in traveling great distances and also led them to oases. These survivors built an empire as solid as rock on the desert sand, out of sheer necessity. But once the war was over, they became outcasts. They were disowned by Mesar under the fear that they were spies of Vylorde. Since then, they became a nation unto themselves, sworn enemies of the Sandguards, and all their allies. They became the Desert Riders.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

When Skarr came to, he found himself surrounded by Desert Riders in their ragtag uniforms. He realised with surprise that the walls behind him were made of sand with nothing to hold them together. Yet somehow they seemed perfectly solid. “The Sand Palace! By Calyx, it really does exist!” he exclaimed. He had always heard talk of the mysterious Sand Palace of the Desert Riders, constructed through ancient magic, capable of moving around at will and disappearing in an instant, but of course he had never believed them.

“You’re a quick one, Sandguard. Now let’s see how long you’ll exist!” said a sneering voice. Skarr turned to find a rotund, bearded man wielding a sword. He seemed almost jolly, except for his eyes, cold and menacing. And they were now trained on Skarr with amazing intensity. Skarr fought the urge to bow down.

“I am King Sertrid, and you, Captain Skarr, are upto your neck in trouble. What made you think you could traipse into my kingdom and escape unharmed? But I will have you know, we do things proper in Arkon. Give him a sword and shield, men. We might have some fun with you yet.”