The rest of the journey went without incident. They no longer encountered any mamono. Only once did the mercenary stop Amon, pointing at a movement in the sand far ahead.
"Sandworm. Don't move, they can sense vibrations very well."
They stood still for several minutes, watching the underground mamono slither away, and then continued on their way.
Amon began to take more frequent breaks, adjusting his pace to match the mercenary's rhythm. Not wanting Alexandra to engage in combat while exhausted, he allowed her to rest and recover her strength.
Along the way, Alexandra shared stories about various monsters and their habits. Amon was a grateful listener. He didn't interrupt her, occasionally asking clarifying questions, absorbing the knowledge like a sponge. Their conversations and the warrior's behavior made Alexandra warm to him.
Usually silent and withdrawn, the mercenary even started telling a few stories from her life, rough but somewhat amusing. On cold nights, when even her fur-lined sleeping bag couldn't protect her from the chill, Alexandra would unconsciously snuggle up to Amon, who lay with his arms behind his head. She would sleep peacefully until it was time for her watch.
***
Any journey, no matter how long, eventually ends.
Amon climbed up a high dune, dragging the donkey and the mercenary, for whom the incline was too steep.
The sorcerer looked ahead. The desert had ended. In front of them lay a flat plain.
Golden sand fields alternated with solid ground, on which large boulders loomed, as if tossed by some careless giant. Far in the distance, at the very horizon, the sharp domes of El-Farrah gleamed in the sunlight.
"We'll be in the city by evening," Amon remarked with satisfaction.
"I wouldn't say no to a bath," Alexandra huffed. The climb had been difficult for her. The mercenary could only marvel at her companion's agility as he scaled the barrier as though it didn't exist.
"On my tab?" Amon smirked.
"Of course! All expenses are on you," Alexandra raised her hand, sniffed her armpits, and grimaced. "I don't want to smell like our donkey."
"Actually, you smell much worse," Amon said with a grin. "Fine, you've convinced me – you'll get your bath, wine, and everything else. You've done well, and I'm satisfied with you."
"And the pleasure? Right, it costs money," the mercenary stretched out her hand toward Amon, opening and closing her palm. "Payment for today. Fork over the coins."
"You're greedy," the sorcerer counted out gold and placed it into Alexandra's palm. "What do you even spend it on?"
"Wine, men, and gambling," the girl laughed roughly. "Can't you tell?"
"More than enough," Amon smirked and started down the slope.
They argued harmlessly as they descended from the dune. After a few hundred meters, a massive chunk of rock appeared to their right, and behind it, a crowd of people in black clothes, armed with curved swords. They surrounded a girl, who was buried up to her waist in the ground, excitedly talking amongst themselves.
One of the warriors picked up a stone from the ground, tossed it in his hand, and hurled it at the girl, hitting her eyebrow. Blood sprayed, but the girl didn't move, her head drooping lifelessly onto her chest. She was clearly unconscious. The next stone hit its target but only grazed her shoulder. The warriors laughed at their comrade's clumsiness.
"That's a mamono," Alexandra confidently said. "See, the ears are pointed? Looks like some kind of succubus subspecies."
Amon squinted.
"Yeah. Strange – they have weapons. Why are they throwing stones at her? Torture?"
The mercenary shook her head with disgust.
"No, it's a local custom. The prophet of the goddess ordered captured mamono to be stoned, as well as women caught in adultery or immoral behavior. In the Emirate, they believe that all monsters are depraved whores."
"There's some logic to that."
"There's no logic," the girl exclaimed indignantly. "It's wrong! Fighting is one thing – it's either you or the enemy. But tormenting a defeated foe is low. If I had taken the contract on her, I would've just taken her head off quickly and almost painlessly."
Amon smiled slightly.
"I still can't get used to your principles, mercenary."
"I wasn't always a mercenary," Alexandra said angrily. "Decency hasn't been abolished."
"I see," Amon stared intently at the girl. "Let's get closer."
"Why?"
"I want to get a better look at her."
The warrior moved forward. Behind him, leading the donkey, Alexandra followed, muttering angrily:
"Beasts, sadistic scum. If it were up to me, I'd show them where the yetis hibernate! Jackals, wolves!"
Wolves.
The gravel under Amon's boots crunched.
'Crumbs,' the sorcerer thought with forgotten longing. 'Like crumbs...'
The sun blasted Amon with scorching rays. The dense air burned his lungs. With detached surprise, Amon noticed that it was becoming hard to breathe. He stopped a few dozen meters from the warriors, who were engrossed in throwing stones, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"Wolves," the mercenary continued to curse behind him. "Attacking in packs, brainless jackals. These cowards are nothing alone!"
Wolves. Amon raised his gaze. He couldn't tear his eyes away, staring at the burning circle; the pure blue air turned black, and the sorcerer staggered slightly.
Wolves. The heat enveloped his body, creeping under his travel clothes, which weighed down like armor.
The world spun, gaining speed. The piles of boulders turned into rubble, the smooth gravel into cobblestones, and the azure blue into a black, smoky sky.
Amon blinked, and in the same instant, his reality flipped.