Forgive the watermark, it’s one of the better pictures I could find.
Wading through the countless waves of bright, fine grain, a camel trudged through the massive sea of sand that filled the Ember Desert. On its back sat a traveling merchant, protected by numerous layers of bland, beige fabric and the milky white shemagh wrapped around his head. The wind was particularly dry today, and the sun, in its usual practice, beat steadily on both man and beast, not caring for the visible exasperation on the man’s face.
Kairo (as that was the man’s name) grunted softly as he leaned ever so slightly towards the camel’s side, feeling it out to make certain that his baggage had not fallen off while he was unaware. They were still there, exactly where he had dropped them. Sighing a sigh of relief, he re-assumed his initial posture and looked straight ahead. He squinted, hoping to catch a glimpse of something - anything - to break the harmony of the otherwise monotonous desert. Nothing.
He was still a ways from Dezlea Town.
He had intentionally ridden away from the Rockies, the parts of the great desert that were filled with rusted earth and large, imposing canyons, for it was known among the experienced that such places were populated with thieves and bandits, waiting to fall upon any unsuspecting traveler that crosses. It was not unpopular for traders who had departed months prior with a full traveling party to return with but a scant crowd, the rest having been killed off by bandits or by the unforgiving climate. The Ember Desert was a cruel, unrelenting place.
Before the desert’s harsh loneliness and creeping uncertainty, however, Kairo’s spirit did not falter. He was an expert in the business of crossing the Ember Desert, and had done so countless times, mostly alone. He knew these seas like the back of his hand, and could control and maneuver his camel like the sails on a ship. He was Archimedon Kairo, the Falcon’s Talon, master of the blade, renowned wizard, and pride of his hometown. There was no man under the sun who could defeat him, surely not in the midst of the desert, where he was at his element. In here, he was invincible.
And so he set his eyes towards the horizon, toiling through the arid desert sand, his shemagh shielding him from it’s turbulent dry winds.
A few hours had past, and the sun, now tired and weary from its journey across the pale blue skies, now burned a reddish-orange hue, painting the sky in its colors. To a now famished Kairo, it was reminiscent of the fresh, juicy mangoes he would routinely get at the busy markets of the Red Coast. It was on times like this that he wished fruits did not go bad as quickly as they did, for he would certainly have packed a basket full of them. He sighed dejectedly.
Normally, as one of the natural advantages of venturing out into the desert with a group, the travelers would take shifts staying up at night to ensure that their camels weren’t stolen or didn’t wander off. Kairo, however, did not have such a luxury, and would have to stay up every night, only taking brief opportunities to rest when the camel only needed to move forward. He was saved only by his sleep resistance training, an exercise he had underwent as a fledgling wizard. It helped to bolster their strength of will and endurance, both of which had a direct correspondence to magic capacity. He could realistically go for six days without sleep, though this depended on his physical and mental state.
He quickly dismounted his camel and, stopping down to reach for the nails and sticks in his bag, squinted forward to ascertain how far he was from his destination. To his surprise, a silhouette had formed at the edge of the horizon. It didn’t take long before his excited smile had faded into a serious glare though, as the silhouette, formerly resembling a straight line, had split up into four equally sized pieces, and was rushing towards him with considerable speed.
With a resigned sigh Kairo rushed towards his bag and drew his sword, and then silently approached the bandits. He watched as they dismounted their camels tied together by rope and rushed towards him, only raising his voice when they were close enough for him to see their faces.
“Is there a problem here?”
The bandits looked at each other perplexed. They began talking amongst each other, whispering, pointing, and then snickering at their seemingly obtuse victim. Finally, the largest of their group spoke up.
“Are you stupid or something?”
The bandits broke into laughter. Kairo, just a little bit peeved at being mocked, stared impatiently at the giddy men. They were all tall in stature, and seemed to handle the sword with ease, likely a consequence of their experience as bandits. The biggest one seemed to be over 2 meters tall, towering over him. Nevertheless, Kairo remained unbothered.
When the bandits realized that he was still standing in front of them with his sword in the open, they gradually stopped laughing, wiping the tears from their eyes.
“Look man, we’re not going to harm you. Just give us some of your shit and we can both leave. If you refuse, however…”
Kairo raised his eyebrows and smirked, raising his sword and taking a defensive stance.
The large one was no longer smiling, and had instead assumed an annoyed snarl. Before his partners could do anything, he rushed at Kairo, ready to cut him down.
Kairo held his stance for a little while before dropping his sword on the ground and pointing his right hand at the bandit. His index finger emitted a bright light, and before the bandit could notice, released a magic circle and shot out a fiery projectile. The shot passed clean through his head, whizzing past the other three behind him. The large bandit crashed with a loud thud, blood gushing out of his wound.
The bandits were frozen in place. They had not realized that he was a wizard, and had assumed that he was another ordinary traveler making his way through the Ember Desert. Suddenly realizing their fates, their faces filled with horror, and they began to run towards their camels.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Kairo shot three bullets at each bandit, striking them down immediately. As he approached the burning bodies, he noticed that one of the bandits were still alive, desperately crawling towards the camels. He stared at him blankly, and then proceeded to search through the pockets of the other bandits for more food or water, only moving towards the last bandit when he had stopped moving.
After he was done, he looked towards the direction of their camels, and saw that they had all fled, spooked by the stray fireballs from his magic spell.
“Damn…”
Finding nothing else to carry with him, he then returned to his camel to set up the fireplace, rummaging through his bags to get the pieces of bread he had packed with him for the journey.
When morning arrived, Kairo packed up his camping equipment and mounted them his camel, ready for another day of turbulent wind, clear faded skies and perpetual hills of sand.
Once again Kairo found himself wading through the unending sea of bright, fine grain, only this time he was not riding his camel, as she was exhausted and needed some rest. This time, he guided her through the desert with a lead, placing his hand on top of his eyes and squinting, staring at the horizon. Nothing.He stared at his hands, now bloodied and blackened with ash from the bandits whose clothes he scavenged, thinking of how pitiful it must be to be weak. After all, he hadn’t even used a high level spell, and they were helpless before him. He couldn’t ever remember being weak. As a natural born talent, he was blessed by the gods with a supernatural inclination towards the magic arts, and had started magic school four years ahead of the typical mage. He was naturally gifted at swordplay, and was more agile and adept than anyone.
“Sucks for them, I guess.”
He reached towards one of his bags, retrieving from it a cracker-like pastry which he had stolen from the robbers. It had a distinct, weird taste, and was exceptionally dry and hard. It didn’t taste horrible though, and he continued to eat from the bag as he trekked alone with his camel, suspecting nothing when his throat started getting itchy.
The desert winds were exceptionally strong today, and, in the large city of Dezlea Town, most of its residents had retreated to their houses to shield themselves from the bits of sand that the winds often carry with them. A group of children, playing dangerously near the border of the town, gleefully passed a sack of sand to each other, giggling and applauding whenever it was thrown, failing to notice a woman glaring at them and scattering when she shouted at them to leave the area. The boy who was holding the sack dropped it on the floor, scurrying back home.
But, buried beneath the sand only a few centimeters from the city’s border, a man lay dead, his mouth hanging open. His skin was filled completely with purple rashes, and his robes, previously a milky beige color, were stained with blood and dust. As the desert winds blew away from his now discolored body, he was uncovered from his sandy coffin, and shortly after a curious and mortified crowd had gathered around him, retching from the smell of his sun-baked flesh and the sight of his horrifying wounds. A group of vultures, drawn in by the stench and the crowd, sat perched upon the nearby houses and trees, waiting to tear into their next meal.
Afterthoughts
I don’t particularly like how this story came out, simply because I think I could have done more, both on Kairo’s characterization and repeating motifs.
As an example, I could’ve had the bodies of the bandits he killed also be preyed upon by vultures, drawing a similarity between his death and theirs. That would have been a bit better.
Moreover, I was initially going to have him die of thirst, but got lazy and decided not to do it. That was a severe mistake upon re-reading it. It was clever of me not to directly state what magic Kairo used so as to ensure that him dying of thirst is more likely than not, but him dying of a simple lack of resources due to negligence on his part would be more interesting.
Still not absolutely horrible, just in need of severe re-working, which I haven’t the determination to undertake at ALL.