Open Chronicles An Island in a Sea of Sand

[Takama]

The Baal-Asha river was an artery for Amol-Kalit. It was the mightiest of the rivers, charting a lonely course through the vast deserts. Thin slivers of life clung to its banks, a band of green amidst the arid badlands and desert sands. The rivers were the lifeblood of the land.

Further from the rivers, it was a different story. Settlements clustered around natural springs and oases. They eked out subsistence farming through painstaking irrigation. Maresh was like half a hundred other locations. The fortified ksar was built on a rocky outcrop, the citadel overshadowing the town that had expanded beyond the original walls.

It was market day. There was a bustle of activity with a tent city having sprung up. Smaller settlements had sent delegations while nomadic tribes had arrived to trade their wares, sell livestock, and enjoy the fruits of civilisation. There were feuding clans present but the peace of the gathering prevailed, enforced by the watchful eyes of the amir's soldiers. Calls were shouted in a dozen tongues. Water fat river dwellers mingled with tacitrun tribals from the middle of the dune seas.

Takama gave a sigh of relief as they crested the slope. The merchant caravan was three weeks from Abrakán and was beginning to show signs of wear. She let herself have a precious drink of water, savouring the taste. They'd be able to refill their skins at the communal wells. A peddler mage could then purify it for a small charge.

She tapped her camel with her crop, urging it forward. A ragged cheer came from the merchants as they came over the rise. Maresh wasn't Alliria but three weeks of trudging through the desert made it look like paradise. The markets always brought in new sights. She wondered if she'd sign on with the caravan again. She was tempted to sell her sword to another and venture further afield.

Drums sounded to signal their arrival, alerting the fair to the presence of yet more traders. They'd find a patch to pitch their camp, then set about plying their wares.

 

[Djana Mahin]

Beneath a parasol and atop a building made of limestone and clay sat Djana.

A woman stood by her side, slowly waving a large fan up and down to press some of the heat away from her face. A pitcher of water sat next to her, cooled by a tray of ice that had clearly been made by some sort of magical means. Her silk clothing sat lightly on her body, shielding supple skin from the harsh sun.

She breathed easily.

This was her homeland. Where she had come from and where she had been born. Her tribe had passed through here many times in her youth, though in truth Maresh held no true significance within her heart.

It was just another settlement in the desert, and a small one at that.

Even the Great Lord had no major roots here. A peddler here, the owner of an Inn there, but no servants in any great number. Maresh was a cross-road, nothing more. Yet it would serve her purpose, as did everything else within his plans. Gingerly reaching over she grasped the cup of water, taking a small sip as she watched the approaching caravan.

 

[Takama]

"Ai-ya" Takama swore, wincing as she took her first few steps off the camel. She gave it an affectionate smack while her other hand tried to work out the tightness in her legs. Around her the others were dismounting. Drovers and servants rushed to pitch tents and tie up the camels. Guards fanned out to keep a wary eye for pickpockets or other opportunists. One barked and brandished his riding crop at two erstwhile thieves who crept too close.

She straightened her back with a crack before grunting in satisfaction. Her work for the moment was done, she'd be able to enjoy the sights once the camp was secure. The peddlers and merchants were already getting set up.

 

[Djana Mahin]

Djana did not move from her perch.

She had been in this little hovel of a city for nigh on a week now, and things had still not come to her. They would eventually, they always did.

The Great Lord did not lie.

Not to her.

It was only a matter of time before what she needed fell into her lap, he had guaranteed it. His words were sometimes vague, difficult to understand, but this time he had been more than clear. Her head still ached from his touch, but it had been worth it for the clarity.

Not that it helped with her patience.

 

[Takama]

"I go to find the master of the fair" Takama explained to the cavern master. She forced a strained smile on her face before bowing slightly, "As you wish" she affirmed, inclining her head in acknowledgement. She left the camp and stalls, pressing deeper into the market.

A patrol of the amir's guard marched by. Takama stepped to the side like most others in the crowd. The looks that followed them weren't friendly. They kept the peace of the fair but it didn't mean they were loved. She moved to a stall to haggle for some fruit. The taste was incredible after weeks of cured meat and brackish water pulled from old wells.

The smells of the fair wafted on the air. Spices, meat, baking, iron. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the babble of different tongues swarm over her, a fierce contrast from the quiet of the desert.

 

[Djana Mahin]

"The Sun is not too much?"
​

A voice rang out behind her, familiar in it's tune and sounding almost concerned. Djana's head swiveled slightly, catching sight of the Amir of Maresh. She made a motion to stand, but the man quickly waved at her to remain seated.

"Of course not, My Lord." She said, offering him a formal bow of her head.

The Amir did not serve the Great Lord, not directly, but he had known better than to turn her away when she'd arrived. The man had made every sacrifice to ensure her comfort, taking her and the others of her company in without even a second thought or guess.

"I was born in the desert." She mused. "The sun is welcome after the dreary lands of the East."

The Amir smiled, slowly walking to the edge of the building to inspect the markets below.