Chapter 11
the WastelandsThe day dawned on what could only be
described as a nightmare. I had heard stories about the Wasteland,
but I believed the tales were exaggerated or made up so the
Songweavers could entice the audience out of more coins. None of
those legends could prepare me for what I saw.
What stretched out before our eyes was
almost impossible to describe. It was like nothing I had
experienced. Our garrison stood on a small hill covered in scrub
and small plants, the lush banks of the Blackwater River at our
backs. In front of us, spread out was an endless vision of dust. As
far as one’s eye could see was nothing but a sickly gray color.
There were no beautiful honey-blossom trees swaying in the wind, no
birds dancing in the sky, just infinite barren ground.
Wind
