The Dragon Mark

Tyrell walked slowly, his fatigue and injuries far worse than he had hoped, a burden he could no longer ignore. His right arm still refused to move after three days, and every breath brought a grimace of pain. That cursed reaper hadn’t missed him, or so he would have thought if he weren’t surprised to still be alive. He knew better than anyone that no one survived a Swarm. Yet here he was, walking through the vast sand alongside this strange young woman. Lysbelle had fared even better than he had, without taking injuries. Her broken arm seemed to have healed, and she had no other visible wounds. The gift of healing was a rare power among Îme sculptors. He was counting on someone being able to heal him when they reached the oasis so he wouldn’t have to amputate his arm. He had even considered asking Lysbelle if she could heal him, but she didn’t seem aware of her own powers.

Far from being naive, Tyrell already knew he owed her his survival. Even though she didn’t seem to realize it, it was she who had pulled them from the clutches of the reapers. Yes, he had carried her to safety when she passed out, but without the massive Îme blast she had unleashed, he never would have had the chance. Not to mention the fact that she had torn off the insect’s mandible with nothing but her bare hands. The strangest part of it all was that she didn’t even realize how extraordinary she was. He glanced at the young woman walking ahead of him, her jet-black hair fluttering in the gentle morning breeze, her eyes constantly scanning the surroundings to avoid being caught off guard. He reached out his good arm to grip her shoulder, signaling her to stop. Lysbelle turned her head toward him, her eyes locking onto his, waiting for an explanation. Tyrell shuddered—there was a fire in her gaze, a flame of courage and determination that he knew all too well.

"Look ahead and tell me what you see."

She furrowed her brow and turned to face the desert. A few long seconds passed before she opened her mouth to respond.

"The dunes are... lower?"

Tyrell nodded silently, waiting for another observation. Sensing she needed to say something else, Lysbelle added:

"It feels like someone has flattened them by hand."

Pleased with her keen observation, he stepped forward to stand beside her, took out his flask, and drank a sip of water. After quenching his thirst, he replied:

"You were never trained as a scout, were you?"

"No, I handled supplies and took care of the animals in the Caravan."

"That's a shame. You would have excelled with proper training. When dunes suddenly flatten out like the ones ahead, it means we’re entering the territory of a Sandblower. With a Caravan we wouldn't care, but it's a different story when we’re traveling on foot and in small numbers."

"A Sandblower? The ones that burrow through the sand?"

"Yes, they might not seem very threatening, but don’t be fooled—they’re a scourge for scouts and lone travelers."

"Should we go around its territory?"

"No, we’re already too slow. We have no choice but to cut straight through it."

With those words, Tyrell resumed walking, and Lysbelle followed. The flatter, more compact dunes made their progress easier, and they picked up the pace.

Lysbelle remained alert. Tyrell had explained that she was more likely to spot the Sandblower by focusing on the movement of the sand rather than searching for the creature itself. A masterful burrower, the animal could, without a doubt, launch a surprise attack. She had never seen one herself, only heard stories from the scouts in her caravan about the strange creature. Apparently, it had massive front legs and long claws used for both digging and defense. A movement caught her eye.

Several dozen meters away, a gust of wind had caused some sand to tumble down the side of a dune. She shook her head, refocusing. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in her thoughts. She was already lost in the middle of the desert. With only a wounded near-stranger as her guide, Lysbelle had to focus every ounce of her attention on their survival. Unfortunately, her mind began to wander, and Azel's face appeared in her thoughts. She imagined him even more lost than she was, surrounded by strangers and criminals. Panic slowly rose inside her. It gripped her stomach and pushed out every other thought.

"Stop, get down, look over there."

Almost out of reflex rather than processing his advice, she crouched and looked in the direction Tyrell was pointing. At the edge of her vision, almost invisible due to the heat mirages and distance, there was something. The creature, standing on four legs with a long tail trailing behind it, was digging into the dune before diving in and disappearing for a few seconds. Then, the figure reappeared, jumping into a cloud of sand. The sight was almost mesmerizing.

"That’s not normal. Sandblower don’t usually behave like this... We’re going to go around it. Follow me."

Lysbelle gave the creature one last glance as it seemed to jump up and down before following her guide.

"What was it doing?"

"Either it’s young and playing, or it’s trying to impress a female. Either way, we should keep our distance. Let’s take advantage of the wind being in our favor."

The two figures made a slow detour, carefully avoiding the Sandblower or others that might be nearby. As Tyrell had mentioned, they were lucky the wind was blowing toward them and not toward the creature. The other way, it would have alerted it to their presence. At least, the event had one positive effect: the panic that had started to seize Lysbelle had faded, replaced by a sense of danger. She had noticed it before without realizing it—the danger itself didn’t freeze her. It was when she imagined the worst happening to someone she cared about that she became paralyzed.

She continued moving, keeping pace with Tyrell and following him. The man was a force of nature. Tall without being imposing, he had endured silently for three days with injuries that would have had anyone else writhing in pain. But even he had his limits, and there was no doubt he would need rest and medical care soon.

“You holding up?”

“Don’t worry about me; just keep moving.”

Though she thought he could do something about his personality. Always straight to the point, never a word too many. The two days of waiting had been unbearable for Lysbelle. She had tried to start conversations to pass the time with no avail.

They walked for a while longer in silence, the Sandblower's territory seeming endless. The one benefit, at least, was that they didn’t have to exert as much effort due to the lower dunes. Just when everything seemed to be going well, the wind shifted—quite literally.

Tyrell gritted his teeth and, through a painful grimace, picked up the pace. Lysbelle followed without asking questions—she wasn’t foolish enough to miss the implications. Their forced march lasted several minutes until a howl shattered the calm desert silence. The first bark was quickly followed by a second.

"We Sandrun now. We’ve got a bit of a head start on them. There’s a chance they’ll stop chasing us once we’re out of their territory."

"Can you keep it for long?"

"I’ll have to."

Their pace quickened again, each step building into a rhythm. It was as if the desert opened a path for them, allowing travelers to cover long distances in record time. A mix of sliding, striding, and balancing—only the nomads had mastered this form of movement. Unfortunately, with Tyrell's injury, and despite his smooth movements, each step caused him more pain. In a sheer display of willpower, he ignored his body’s warning signs and pushed forward. Lysbelle, on the other hand, kept glancing back anxiously, knowing the danger was closing in on them.

“There, look!” Tyrell pointed.

A single glance was enough for her to understand. He was signaling the end of the Sandblower's territory. They picked up the pace, hoping to reach the border, but the creatures had other plans. To Lysbelle’s left, a burst of sand caught her attention. In the next instant, she barely caught a glimpse of a form within the dust cloud before she had to throw herself to the side. The creature, claws extended, missed its mark by a hair and landed on the other side. They were only a few dozen meters away from the large dunes the Sandblower hadn’t flattened. Sadly those final meters were now blocked.

Tyrell stopped, forcing Lysbelle to do the same. Ahead of them, a second Sandblower blocked their path, while the first one now cut off their retreat. The creatures were long and sleek, about a meter and a half in length and a meter tall. Their gaunt bodies ended with impressive tails, like that of a lizard. But the most striking feature was their massive front legs, tipped with claws designed for digging and hunting. Their elongated snouts were odd, with oversized nostrils perfect for filtering sand or blasting it out.

“Lysbelle, keep your focus on the one behind us. I’ll handle the one in front. Watch its claws and don’t let the sand blindside you.”

With those words, the tension escalated. The two creatures circled them, searching for a weak spot or the right moment to strike. Lysbelle kept her eyes locked on her target. Just a few meters away, the creature seemed to crawl through the sand, ready to lunge at any second. The other, either impatient or confident due to Tyrell’s injury, attacked first. It barked as it launched itself at him. The noise distracted Lysbelle, giving the first Sandblower the chance to charge her. She regained her composure just in time, trying to dodge the attack only to be caught off guard when the creature stopped in front of her. In a practiced maneuver, it blasted a jet of sand at her face before leaping again, claws outstretched.

At the same time, Tyrell sidestepped his attacker’s leap and, with a swift motion, countered with a strike to the creature’s neck. The Sandblower yelped in pain, twisting its body and snapping its jaws at his leg.

Blinded by sand, Lysbelle never saw the attack coming. A claw sliced across her side, and she only managed to save herself by stumbling back. She felt the warmth of blood running down her stomach and the sharp sting of the cut. Crying out in pain, she took another step back, finally regaining her sight. The Sandblower in front of her had vanished. Her survival instincts kicked in, and she instinctively dove to the side. Something ripped through a section of her protective cloak, and she gulped, realizing how close she had come to dying. As she scrambled to her feet, she saw the Sandblower watching her warily.

Lysbelle soon understood why. The second Sandblower had landed beside its companion, whining. Injured, with one of its front legs raised, ears flattened, and lips curled back, it had lost the battle with Tyrell. The two creatures sized them up for a moment.

“Stand tall and spread your arms,” Tyrell murmured. “Make them think you're fine, even if you’re not.”

Still riding the adrenaline of the fight, Lysbelle obeyed without hesitation. Time seemed to stretch in slow, suffocating stillness.

The two hunters evaluated their prey, deciding whether the effort was worth it. After all, the prey who seemed hurt and tired had already managed to badly hurt one of them. Then, the first one—the one Lysbelle had faced—let out a howl before spinning around and burrowing into the sand with astonishing speed. Soon, the second followed, and the two travelers found themselves alone.

"Can you walk?" asked the one who, despite having won, was clearly the worst off.

"Yes."

"Good. Let's head to the high dunes. They'd see it as a challenge if we stayed here."

A few painful minutes of walking later, they reached the almost comforting height of the warm sand hills. The adrenaline had faded, leaving only the ache behind. Lysbelle’s protective clothing had been torn by the Sandblower's claws, and a deep cut now marked her right side, close to the Dragon tattoo.

"Let me see your wound. We need to clean it and wrap it before it gets worse," Tyrell commanded, with the tone of someone used to being obeyed.

Maybe it was the pain, or perhaps the fatigue and hunger, but Lysbelle only realized after exposing her injury to Tyrell that she was also revealing the Dragon etched into her skin.