Tales of the exiles

The spark that started a Fire

The brass minarets shone with the lights of a million blazing fires. I could hear the bustle of the great city: the hammering of the Azer's forges, the clashing of soldiers practicing, and the shouts of the great slave market in the grand bazaar. There was an ever present smell of brimstone and sulfur mingling in the air with spiced incensed. I flew above the city as it hovered in place above the Sea of Flame. I approached the Charcoal Palace and could hear the tunes of efreeti entertainers. Then as always; the deep bellowing laughter. Always the laughter. It was a cold laughter despite the constant inferno below. In a panicked fear I fell from my flight straight to the Sea of Fire below.
I awoke in a cold sweat though I was overcome with fever. The dreams were getting more intense. I was away from the campfires of my companions; we had learned that lesson rather quickly. My clothes lay a few feet away. The sand beneath me had turned to glass. Again.
"The dreams are getting worse sister aren't they?"
"The longer we wander, the worse they get." He was not my brother. None of my companions were, though they had always referred to me as "sister". We were orphans all, raised by the ascetics in the great library at Candlekeep. It was our first journey beyond the walls. For my brothers to gather and gain volumes of work to add to the library's collection. For me, well I suspect it was to get me away from the multitude of books, scrolls, codexes, and tapestries. All of which remain highly flammable.
We had come south to the deserts of Calimshan. The oral tradition was strong here. The people were famed as fireside storytellers, but not much had been written. Books from the area were so rare that the masters at Candlekeep sent the five of us to gather what stories we could. Jyn and Tak were anthropologists and would do much of the work. Ryg was a strong man who would porter for us, but he was also a skilled scribe and skilled illuminator. His imagination, creativity and skill at the letter "S" was quite renowned among the senior scribes. There were also recipes of the desert nomads that my brother Torvald was eager to record. The library at Candlekeep would treasure a cookbook nearly as much as it would hold dear an ancient arcane tome.

The problem with a place called the sea of shifting sands is that the sands are always moving. The problem is compounded when the people themselves are also always moving. There were a few well known waterholes and oases but sometimes the sands would shift and bury one, while revealing others.

"It has been three days since we've seen anyone brother. Has there been any sign of caravans, encampments, or oases?" I inquired, stretching from my night's slumber. It appeared the brothers had been awake from some time now, Torvald had brewed a pot of the strong Calimshan coffee. He handed me a copper cup of the strong brew. Ryg had caught a few snakes and was turning them on a spit over the fire.

"No sister." He handed me the robes we had all taken to wearing since we entered the desert. I additionally wore a face covering niqab. It helped to keep the dust and sand out of my face as well as conceal my true identity. Torvald was a good friend since we were children. He would always stick up for me when the other children would make fun of me because of my hair or my skin. "But I think we are nearing the center of the desert region, if we haven't already found it. I've seen traces of salt deposits in the areas not covered in sand dunes."

"What we need is water Torvald, not salt. Our supplies must be dwindling."

"We've got enough water for today, then we need to find an oasis or pray for rain. At least it will be easy to spot trees among the flat areas. Look sister we are almost the same." He said with with a wide grin. He put his arm next to mine. Exposure to the intense sunlight had turned his skin bright red; the same color as mine. "Perhaps the nomads will mistake me for a genasi like you, Basia."

Aways the jolly optimist.

"You need to cover your skin Torvald, your skin will peel away in the heat very soon."