195
The stark land is silent: no bird sings, no flower grows. The silence is oppressive and your senses recoil against the evil of the place. You have entered ‘the dead lands’.
As you walk, you kick up clouds of ash and dust. Everywhere it is impossibly grey—the very soil has been charred to cinders. ‘How … ’ you breathe into the silence, ‘how in the world did this happen? What could blight the land as utterly as this?’
‘You do not know the legend?’ asks Hugi, surprised.
You shake your head. ‘Go on,’ you say, if only for the comfort of another human voice.
