Contos de Anayr: O Deserto (Tales of Anayr: The Desert) was my first ebook, published through KDP on Amazon. It was a huge failure. I did not invest in any kind of marketing, and when I tried, I barely knew how to get the book to the people who would want to read it. It ended up in the hands of steamy romance readers, who tore it apart in Instagram posts, back in 2018.
In 2021 I decided to republish it, with a revision and a new cover, but nothing in these stories pleased me the way it did when they were written. There are 3 stories in total that together tell a story I found interesting.
The universe I created, called “Anayr” (I do not remember if there was a reason for the name; maybe it was just the first word that came to mind at the time), is vast. I have written more stories in it than I can remember, and only these three have ever been seen by anyone, besides one or two pieces of flash fiction on social media.
This time I did something “drastic”: I removed the ebook from the stores and I will post it in three parts here on Substack. Depending on the reception, I will think about what to do next with everything created for this fantasy world. So if you like it, comment. If some aspect caught your attention, comment. If you hate it, comment. And if for some reason you think “I want more of this”, for the love of any divine entity, living or dead, comment.
Enjoy the read.
I Surrender
In Anayr there was a desert, and few people liked that. It was not a desert like the ice deserts of the far North, near Belian, the frozen forest, nor was it like the plains surrounding Lúria, the luminous forest. It was a different one, of dunes and great rocks, separated by hours of walking, each looking as dead as the landscape around it. The sea of sand split the continent in half and had never been fully explored. It was sad to walk there, but one man, a poor, unhappy man, walked there on bad days.
Valir, that was the name of a soldier in the army of Lyane, the great kingdom of humans, which lay far from the desert. It was on a strange day, with a great sandstorm, that the scouting squad broke apart after stopping on a grassy plain not far from the desert. Many soldiers lost the route they were following, and Valir was one of them. All he saw after the violent storm were dunes around him for miles, and at his feet a piece of the plain that had been torn up and dragged there. Almost impossible to believe. After walking for hours through the dunes, he found no one. He was lost.
Walking through the desert made him very dizzy. The sun was scorching, his water was running out, food was scarce, and since there were no trees, he did not even have the pleasure of shade over his head. Everything there was hard. When he prepared to serve Lyane, Valir had not been trained for that situation; it was hard to believe he would one day find himself in a desert, let alone alone. That was definitely his worst nightmare coming true.
It was when he finally found a tree, gigantic and dead-looking, that he decided to stop and think about what to do next. The strategy of walking in a single direction was not working. It never would if the direction was the wrong one. There he would have a little shade and could plan his actions better without worrying about the sun burning his skin.
Taking off his military gear was his first reaction. The heat was cooking him inside that chainmail; the helmet, greaves and gauntlets were like pots, and he was the meat. Underneath he wore only light clothes of a common fabric from the region where he lived. Maybe if he walked dressed like that, without all the military equipment, he could be faster. He would only need his sword to protect himself.
The soldier ran his hands through his thin, dark hair, drank a little of the water he had left and sat down against the tree to enjoy its shade. It was shortly after noon, he judged by the position of the sun. He needed to reach somewhere he knew before nightfall, or he would go mad before even finding water or food.
While resting his legs, Valir noticed something strange near a dune a few meters away. It was as if the wind were focused on blowing sand away from a single spot. He got up and walked a little in that direction, until he realized that without greaves he could not walk on the scorching sand. He went back to put on the foot guards, and while putting them on he could see from there what was happening at that particular spot on the dune. The sand kept flying away, like a small sandstorm forming. But they did not start like that, did they? He did not know.
Now protected, he decided to walk to that dune, approaching slowly with his sword in hand. His legs were shaking; he was breaking into a cold sweat even in that extreme heat. The knot in his stomach was the worst feeling, and the sword did not feel at all steady in his hand. Was this the life of a soldier of Lyane? Always facing the unknown? He did not want that for the rest of his life, he definitely did not. All he wanted now was peace, and of course, a good meal.
What began to come out of the sand was grotesque. At first it was like a spear, but thick, sharp at the tip and covered in green slime, at least the size of a human leg, until it bent and tried to brace itself on the sand, straining to get out from under the dune. To Valir, it was a leg, the leg of a creature he had no wish to meet, without a doubt. In the horror of the moment he dropped his sword and ran back to the shade waiting a few meters behind. He needed to hide behind the tree and see what would come out of there, safely.
But almost nothing in Valir’s life was simple; in fact, nothing in Valir’s life had ever been easy. He tripped over his greaves running in the sand, and when he looked back he saw more of those “legs” coming out of the same spot. There were at least six by the time he managed to get up. He struggled to the shade, panting, stomach in knots, eyes wide, his arms flailing as if that could speed him up.
Once “safe” behind the tree, Valir looked at what was now completely out of the sand. The creature was at least two meters tall, with six long, curved legs holding it up. Its lower body was attached to a torso that could turn quickly in many directions; it had a sturdy rear, and on the torso two limbs that looked like claws, probably able to tear or break anything. Its head was like that of a simple ant, but its eyes were more alive. Without a doubt, it was a conscious, intelligent being that could easily rival a human. Not for a moment did Valir think conversation was possible. From where he stood, he could only think of one thing. Running.
He watched the creature walk and move across the nearby sand, aimless, directionless, purposeless. It was like an insect that had just been born and was getting to know its surroundings. Its skin was like a rough shell, a deformed exoskeleton. It took a while for Valir to react; hunger, thirst and fear paralyzed him. He thought about going for his sword and fighting the monster; maybe the flesh under the creature’s exoskeleton could feed him, but just thinking about taking the risk was terrifying.
It was in that moment of terror that Valir knelt at the foot of the tree and remembered for a moment the stories about Anayr’s past. A world covered by a sacred forest, full of gods, gods who lived in trees, the Venar. Here there was a tree. Sacred or not, it was the only one in the whole desert. Could there be a Venar here too? He prayed. He asked the Venar that, in his mind, guarded the desert, to drive away the darkest dangers so he could get home safely, and he also asked to be shown a path.
While Valir prayed in silence, head bowed, hands on the tree and knees in the sand, everything around him shook. From every dune came the same legs that had first announced the creature. Eyes open, heart racing, he stopped praying, got to his feet and looked for a way to escape without being caught, but the fear was too great, and Valir could not think as fast as he wanted. He had tripped before and did not know how fast that creature could move. Unable to decide what to do, he looked up at the sky and went on praying.
The creatures emerged and quickly surrounded the tree. He felt something bad inside, as if his blood were turning into boiling water and running out of his eyes. There was no hope left; he felt it, he was dead. He closed his eyes and continued his chant of worship to the Venar, now out loud. He stammered, wept, screamed. Meanwhile, the creatures drew closer. Their six thick, disgusting legs made no sound on the sand, so all he could hear was the clacking of mandibles, as if it were a way for them to communicate. They approached slowly, as if coordinated. Realizing the Venar had truly abandoned him, Valir stopped chanting, stopped crying. He felt the hunger, the exhaustion, the pain in his head, legs and arms, the thirst, the fear... and did what few could do in that situation. Valir spoke:
“I surrender”
By then the creatures had closed a circle around him. He raised his head, looked at their loathsome faces, heard the clacking mandibles, smelled a strong odor like rotten eggs, and let all his fear become acceptance. The creatures stood still around him. Maybe they were not hostile. Maybe all of this was just his own private horror. Maybe they were even help; who knows, maybe they were manifestations of the Venar themselves. Yes! It was the Venar of the desert answering him. With that thought, Valir’s life came to an end.
“Blood, sand and death”
The voice was deep and dragging, like the scream of an animal being burned alive. The creatures repeated it without stopping, in unison, as they tore off Valir’s limbs. With little effort, they ripped the poor soldier’s body apart, devouring his flesh bit by bit, gnawing his bones, flinging his entrails aside. Nothing ended well.
ISBN: 978-65-00-15912-7
I consider this story some of my worst writing, but it is always good to revisit what I did almost 10 years ago; it is the only way I can see how much I have grown.
Next: Reborn from the Sands
See you, explorers!
Originally published in Prosa & Pixel, on Substack. See it on Substack · Subscribe to Prosa & Pixel · All issues