{{Внутреннее тестирование Вики|

{{Внутреннее тестирование Вики|

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|DE=<!--Kapitel XIII - Die Wüste der hundert Gefahren-->

|DE=<!--Kapitel XIII - Die Wüste der hundert Gefahren-->

In spite of the deafening tumult of the wind, all recognized Brandille's distant voice. And in a fraction of a second, the troop threw itself to the ground. The whole troop except Eurixus. At the same time, a gigantic flaming thorn rose from the sawdust mist, brushed against the imposing root on which Melkiar and Varran had tied themselves, and swooped on the unfortunate Fyros, whose accumulated fatigue had taken the better of reactivity. His torso exploded under the impact of the projectile.

In spite of the deafening tumult of the wind, all recognized Brandille's distant voice. And in a fraction of a second, the troop threw itself to the ground. The whole troop except Eurixus. At the same time, a gigantic flaming thorn rose from the sawdust mist, brushed against the imposing root on which Melkiar and Varran had tied themselves, and swooped on the unfortunate Fyros, whose accumulated fatigue had taken the better of reactivity. His torso exploded under the impact of the projectile.

:''"Not once again Melkiar, we must bury him!"

:''"Not once again Melkiar, we must bury him!"

Belenor was drawn out of his thoughts by Brandille's distant shout.

Belenor was drawn out of his thoughts by Brandille's distant shout.

Without waiting, Belenor grabbed his lanyard and somehow pulled himself up the towering root, which his comrades were already climbing. When he finally planted his notched gloves in the thick wood of the woody growth, he realized when looking at his feet that the ground had already turned into a thick flow of blazing sawdust.

Without waiting, Belenor grabbed his lanyard and somehow pulled himself up the towering root, which his comrades were already climbing. When he finally planted his notched gloves in the thick wood of the woody growth, he realized when looking at his feet that the ground had already turned into a thick flow of blazing sawdust.

The Fyros was seized with panic when he saw that the dune upstream had swollen several cubic meters and was now swooping  in their direction. If his comrades were high enough to dodge the wave of burning sawdust, he would undoubtedly have to take it. So Belenor grabbed tightly onto the root, hoping not to be torn off by the impact. But this was without the strength and reach of Garius' arms, who, hanging by his ankle from Xynala's arm, managed to grab his comrade by the shoulders, to push him away from the bark wall, and to propel him above him. Varran and Melkiar caught Belenor just as Garius was getting to his feet, narrowly dodging the torrent of fire. Placing the Fyros against the root, the colossus pressed his hands and feet down hard, so that he stuck to the bark.

The Fyros was seized with panic when he saw that the dune upstream had swollen several cubic meters and was now swooping  in their direction. If his comrades were high enough to dodge the wave of burning sawdust, he would undoubtedly have to take it. So Belenor grabbed tightly onto the root, hoping not to be torn off by the impact. But this was without the strength and reach of Garius' arms, who, hanging by his ankle from Xynala's arm, managed to grab his comrade by the shoulders, to push him away from the bark wall, and to propel him above him. Varran and Melkiar caught Belenor just as Garius was getting to his feet, narrowly dodging the torrent of fire. Placing the Fyros against the root, the colossus pressed his hands and feet down hard, so that he stuck to the bark.

:''"Belenor, we like you, but we're not going to kill ourselves for you, okay? So stop daydreaming, this is really not the time!"

:''"Belenor, we like you, but we're not going to kill ourselves for you, okay? So stop daydreaming, this is really not the time!"

:''"Respite!"

:''"Respite!"

Hanging from the root, the group waited for about ten minutes until the last gusts of wind died down, then finally headed for Brandille's botoga. The acrobat, who had reached the foot of the huge tree without difficulty, was sucking on a piece of waterlogged bark when Belenor saw him on the side of the dune. The Fyros raced down the powdery slope, rushed towards Brandille and grabbed her by the armpits. He had missed her touch. A few seconds later, Melkiar arrived at the bottom of the dune, his breathing mask in hand. Belenor removed his and smiled at his friend. He was not used to seeing him so bearded. He himself had not shaved for several days, and now wore a thick mahogany beard vaguely reminiscent of his father's. Meeting Belenor's gaze, Brandille winked at him and stroked his fine down. Sometimes, the Fyros had the impression that his friend was able to read his thoughts. And then, suddenly, Melkiar bowed low to his two comrades.

Hanging from the root, the group waited for about ten minutes until the last gusts of wind died down, then finally headed for Brandille's botoga. The acrobat, who had reached the foot of the huge tree without difficulty, was sucking on a piece of waterlogged bark when Belenor saw him on the side of the dune. The Fyros raced down the powdery slope, rushed towards Brandille and grabbed her by the armpits. He had missed her touch. A few seconds later, Melkiar arrived at the bottom of the dune, his breathing mask in hand. Belenor removed his and smiled at his friend. He was not used to seeing him so bearded. He himself had not shaved for several days, and now wore a thick mahogany beard vaguely reminiscent of his father's. Meeting Belenor's gaze, Brandille winked at him and stroked his fine down. Sometimes, the Fyros had the impression that his friend was able to read his thoughts. And then, suddenly, Melkiar bowed low to his two comrades.

At these words, the homins and homines lowered their heads, remembering their missing comrade.

At these words, the homins and homines lowered their heads, remembering their missing comrade.

Belenor, who was striving to follow in the footsteps of the soldier ahead of him, sighed and looked up for a few moments. The troop was walking across an imposing root bridge about ten metres wide, which allowed them to cross a long crevasse. Going around it would have lengthened the end of the journey by two hours. On the horizon, Fort Kronk seemed so close and yet so far away. For a long time, this fortress had been designated as the last inhabited area of the known world, where the maps became mute. Beyond it, there was nothing more than a sea of dunes stretching westwards into infinity. The fort had been built in the broken bend of the Dragon's Backbone, where the continental plateau met the mountainous root barrier and the immense cliffs to the south, which separated the Desert from the Wide Puddle. The crack in which the Fyros had settled was very similar to the one that hosted the city of Fyre. But unlike the imperial capital, which had expanded and consolidated decade after decade, the fortress at the end of the world had never been anything more than a fort, as its name so aptly indicated. A fort that, as soon as it was built, became object of covetousness and source of conflict. To this day, no one was able to say who was really behind its construction, so many different tribes had fought to possess it. The huge, rugged plain between Fort Kronk and the Desert of Fire was considered the largest battlefield in the country. Never had so many Fyros died as in front of Fort Kronk, as evidenced by the number of weapons and pieces of armour from all eras that the strong winds managed to dredge up daily. The last battle, only a few months old, had pitted the Dune Riders tribe against the short-lived coalition formed by the Tears of the Dragon. It is on this occasion that Tigriron, the father of Melkiar, the commander of the coalition, succeeded in recapturing the fortress from their long-time enemies. Enough, thus, to supply the desert plain with more swords. At this moment, perched on the imposing root bridge, Belenor feared that a new torrent of air from the depths would raise a storm of sawdust… and blades. But there were worse things than blades in this desert of a hundred perils. There were the gigantic and magnificent purplish thistles that covered the Backbone at Fort Kronk, and whose imposing thorns were regularly torn off by the violence of the winds. The Fyros thought back of Eurixus, killed a few hours earlier by one of these thorns, and shook his head.

Belenor, who was striving to follow in the footsteps of the soldier ahead of him, sighed and looked up for a few moments. The troop was walking across an imposing root bridge about ten metres wide, which allowed them to cross a long crevasse. Going around it would have lengthened the end of the journey by two hours. On the horizon, Fort Kronk seemed so close and yet so far away. For a long time, this fortress had been designated as the last inhabited area of the known world, where the maps became mute. Beyond it, there was nothing more than a sea of dunes stretching westwards into infinity. The fort had been built in the broken bend of the Dragon's Backbone, where the continental plateau met the mountainous root barrier and the immense cliffs to the south, which separated the Desert from the Wide Puddle. The crack in which the Fyros had settled was very similar to the one that hosted the city of Fyre. But unlike the imperial capital, which had expanded and consolidated decade after decade, the fortress at the end of the world had never been anything more than a fort, as its name so aptly indicated. A fort that, as soon as it was built, became object of covetousness and source of conflict. To this day, no one was able to say who was really behind its construction, so many different tribes had fought to possess it. The huge, rugged plain between Fort Kronk and the Desert of Fire was considered the largest battlefield in the country. Never had so many Fyros died as in front of Fort Kronk, as evidenced by the number of weapons and pieces of armour from all eras that the strong winds managed to dredge up daily. The last battle, only a few months old, had pitted the Dune Riders tribe against the short-lived coalition formed by the Tears of the Dragon. It is on this occasion that Tigriron, the father of Melkiar, the commander of the coalition, succeeded in recapturing the fortress from their long-time enemies. Enough, thus, to supply the desert plain with more swords. At this moment, perched on the imposing root bridge, Belenor feared that a new torrent of air from the depths would raise a storm of sawdust… and blades. But there were worse things than blades in this desert of a hundred perils. There were the gigantic and magnificent purplish thistles that covered the Backbone at Fort Kronk, and whose imposing thorns were regularly torn off by the violence of the winds. The Fyros thought back of Eurixus, killed a few hours earlier by one of these thorns, and shook his head.

:''"Yeah, I understand. I can't take it either. In fact, in the Desert of Fire, we had no choice. The slightest deviation could kill us. But here, it's not so hot. So we think that the worst is over… But in truth, the whole fucking desert wants our skin, fire or not. So let's watch it, it can go very fast, you know."

:''"Yeah, I understand. I can't take it either. In fact, in the Desert of Fire, we had no choice. The slightest deviation could kill us. But here, it's not so hot. So we think that the worst is over… But in truth, the whole fucking desert wants our skin, fire or not. So let's watch it, it can go very fast, you know."

"Flee, they'll blow themselves up!"

"Flee, they'll blow themselves up!"

{{Portal|The Great Library}}

{{Portal|The Great Library}}

{{Portal|Zoraï}}

{{Portal|Zoraï}}

[[Category:Chronicles of the First Crusade‎]]

[[Category:Chronicles of the First Crusade‎]]

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