Karek had been a solitary traveler.  It seems that the other members of his Poonabesh tribe had been killed or abducted in a raid by the Kaz-Khan, a military organization of the Khaniz-beth far to the south that regularly punished the nomadic Poona tribes for their thievery.  It did not matter than not all Poona tribes were bandits, it sufficed to kill and disperse one now and again to prove to the rich merchants of the great city of Khaniz-beth that they were taking action.

Karek was young, but he had a spiritual quality about him that made him seem older.
"We are searching for the lost city called Neriz" Veltek told him in Zokeshi.  (It was more like "where - city - Neriz?")  I was filled with renewed hope when his face finally registered recognition and his hand pointed in a specific direction.  So it does exist, I thought.

We left the following morning.  I had claimed my unused telepathic amulet from around Turmond's neck. We all felt sick at the thought of leaving Turmond there.  The kebesh would have probably brought his body along to provide distraction for wuna, I realized with a shudder.  We could offer him no rest in burial in the ever shifting sands, so in the end we placed him atop the dune in the meagre and fleeting shade of the sand dimple that we had camped in.  It was a better final picture to hold in our minds.  Turmond certainly was past caring.

Karek negotiated us out of the valley of Zouf.  His zuribi was far better trained than the ones that the kebesh had.  It seemed to know where the bad spots were.  I realized that I probably should have cast Animal Empathy on the ones that we already had in an attempt to tame them to new riders and to warn of danger, but it did not occur to me.  At least that's what I told Forcellus.  The Kebeshi zuribi seemed oblivious to the zouf.  Perhaps the kebesh never travelled here.

I carried the staff in my pack.  It sat in my mind that Karek would be a good replacement for Turmond as staff wielder, especially after my prophetic Shamanic Journey.  He was Poona, which meant that he was a descendent of the men that worshipped the ancient goddess Khanisa, who was of Fire and Water.  He was tailor made, elementally.  But after our experience with Hutal, I was not so eager to place our most valuable item into his hands.

Once out of the dangerous valley, we stopped and took stock of our situation.  It had been twenty three days since we arrived at Ekos Zorbesh.  Thirteen of those days in the deserts of the Khaniz Barrens.  It felt like a lifetime.  I had come to believe that I would die in this forbidding place.  Our water was nearly gone.  We had lost another hakawfi, but Karek had brought his own zuribi, which he offered to share with us.  There was no avoiding it, we would all have to try to learn to ride these beasts, loading our supplies onto the one hakawfi.  Luckily, Karek's zuribi was so well trained that we were spoiled, and we all became "zuribin" within a few hours.  During our lessons we proceed slowly north toward our destination.

In the late afternoon the desert sands had changed somewhat.  There was occasionally visible a large protruding rock, something we had not before seen.

We camped for the night.  "We are very near" Karek reported.  It would be best to arrive in the daylight.  The ereki are dark-sighted but we are not."  I did not want to correct his knowledge of my similar Raylan abilities, so I simply nodded in agreement. 

That evening all but Karek went on a Shamanic Journey.  I wanted to gain any insight that I could on the next days activities, but I was unable to concentrate.  My mind kept thinking of Turmond and what I was going to say to his mother.

Next: The Nerians

The following is an excerpt of a letter from the Poona Karek sent to the Caliph of Khaniz-beth long afterwards:

"My story begins long ago in the Khaniz Barrens.  I am of simple origin, living with my family in the Poonabesh way, struggling for survival against the elements, other Poona tribes and the Khaz-khan.  The Dulen family was not a large Poona family, perhaps 25-30 living within the same tents.  Although at the time we did not know, the times were hard because food was scarce and the merderous venom of the sands was everywhere.  This was the time of the Zorbeshi civil war.  Ezmere and Zokesh were warring in other planes and the humans were warring on this plane.  I of course knew nothing about this [when I was] living in the barrens, but learned of it later.  On no particular day I was visiting an area of the Barrens that contained the ancient city of Neriz, which for some reason I have always been able to find even in the shifting of the sands."  

He later wrote:  "My father called it an ancient calling, for even he believed that the Poona were descended from the ancients of that city.  On that day of desert calm I saw a small group of men wandering the desert.  These were strange men with strange weapons.  My Caliph, these weapons and clothing these men carried into the barrens were beyond belief!  They wore heavy clothes (which I later learned to be pieces of northern armor) huge bladed weapons which were not curved in the traditionally superior way of these lands.  Their skin was burned to a bright shade of red.  How fierce these northern men (oh, I knew immediately they were ekos) appeared to me!" 

Karek had spotted us and apparently had decided to follow our party to see where we were going.  He later also recalled "How pathetic it seems that these fierce northern men were robbed of a zuribi in the night by one of their number, and how much greater their shame when on the next day they lost one of their number to the stribish.  I could not watch them move further into the valley of the zouf and watch them die in turn."  He also speculated that our guide (Hutal) had probably led us there to die and thus avoid the public shame of having deserted us.

He had recognized our grief and bore our inept funeral with respect, hiding his amusement for our sake: "They were suspicious but greatly distraught with the loss of their comrade.  The northerners attempting to cover the body of their lost friend with the sand-of-a-thousand-features was pointless.  I told them to leave the body to ward against wuna or raca thinking that they would not understand me."  We then surprised him with our understanding, recognizing "raca" and "wuna".  Veltek managed to get our thoughts across using halting Ezmerad, of which Karek knew a little, and the rudimentary Zokesh that we had picked up from Hutal and Galefi.

We invited Karek to dine us that evening.  We tried to ask ignorant questions of him and he later wrote "I was initially shocked at their ignorance of the barrens but it finally came out that the world they came from was as different from the Barrens as the air is from the sea."

We attempted to explain to Karek about the elemental imbalance of which he later wrote  "I did not understand at that time, but I do now.  They were seeking the places of elemental powers on this plane. They were now searching for the water element (in the desert!) for its gift.  These ekos were on a journey through the Barrens that began and ended with extreme power.  I was curious as to what would become of them.  So I offered to guide them through the desert at no charge.  They discussed this and eventually agreed that this would have to be as they did not know the Barrens very well."

Next: To The Lost City

Instinctively we all headed toward the falling Forcellus.  Time went slowly by as a nightmare then unfolded before us.  Forcellus stopped his roll only at the bottom of the trough and we looked on in horror as the edges of the sand around him revealed a massive four-pointed and moving star that then began to curl in to envelop him.  We had now met a stribish up close.  Turmond screamed and flung himself into the maw landing next to Forcellus with his blade drawn.  He madly began stabbing at the beast from the inside as its four arms continued to close in on them.  Forcellus managed to get to his feet, but he had no weapon.  "My sword" he cried out frantically.  I ran back to camp grabbed his sword and my bow and returned.  They were both now being pinned, but Forcellus had managed to keep part of his torso including his arms outside of the stribishs' grip.  I ventured down to the beast and placed the sword into Forcellus hand and then strung my bow.  As Forcellus repeatedly flailed the outside of the beast, I then attempted to pierce it with an arrow, but none would enter it's spiny flesh.  Veltek screamed "Energy bolt?"  "No!" I answered knowing that they would take the damage as well as the beast.  He produced his dagger instead.  Turmond was working away from within the beast, but with an ever-decreasing amount of room.  He could only clutch the blade and thrust it forward and back.  He was covered in a thick viscous slime and was gagging.  With their movement the stribish had rolled a bit, and Forcellus now was threatened by being trapped beneath the beast.  Turmond gave up on thrusting his blade and instead, with a massive thrust, pushed Forcellus out of the creature.  Forcellus was saved from almost certain crushing, but Turmond was now completely incased within the stribish.  Frantically we attacked the beast with every ounce of our strength making multitudes of cuts, the creatures slime oozing and covering us.  Veltek finally used an Energy Storm as a last result, which proved too much for the creature with it's other wounds and it fell still.  Wildly we cut into it desperate to release Turmond, which we did.  But unfortunately, he was already quite dead.

For a day afterward, we felt as if we had died too.  We had no more resolve.  No more direction.  We had lost.  Our quest was over.  But Turmond had given his life to this venture, and in the end we had to find a way to continue.  Forcellus felt this most keenly as Turmond had saved his life.  "We will do this or I will join you my brother" he screamed to the now silent desert.  We will miss you, my valiant friend.

We did not break camp that day while coming to terms with the situation.  I sat atop the crest of the dune and searched the desert to the north.  The wind had died and the desert was now still.  I could see heat waves rising from the sands making it look like I was sitting on a small boat adrift in an ocean.  I had a strange feeling that I had been there before.  I then noticed a movement on a distant dune.   A moment later I perceived that it was a zuribi.  With a rider.  Was this the same one that I had heard the previous night?  I suddenly felt alarm that it was a hakabeshi scout.  But it was coming from the north, not the south.  Perhaps he had circled?  But something told me that there was no danger.  Perhaps his slow progression.  Or perhaps the persistent sense that I had experienced this before.  Then suddenly I recalled the intuition.  My feet were in water and I was back with the army of my shamanic dream.  Our king had just vanished, and another rode over to take his place.  Some deal had been struck.  We would carry on. 

Next: Karek 

The area around our lost animals remained too dangerous to enter.  This meant that we had lost the water packed onto those beasts.  We were down to two hakawfi and one zuribi and elected to take turns riding and walking.  Hutal pridefully refused his turns, he would not show weakness in riding while an ekos walked.  Soon Forcellus joined him, then even Turmond, walked his zuribi.  Veltek and I rode the hakawfi and happily played the part of delicate nobility.

We spent the next two days of wind and sand traversing endless dunes.  Not an ereki in sight.  I saw my first stribish from a distance.  It looked like a huge round ball atop the dune crest.  The stribish do not propel themselves, they simply take advantage of the geography.  As we rode by several hundred feet away, I saw it topple off the top, rolling down the side of the dune and probably into a sand trough.  There was a fairly strong wind blowing, and the dune had shifted enough to allow it to fall.  Who knows how long it sat there waiting, curled into its tight sphere.

At the end of the third day we spotted a caravan and my hopes soared until Hutal told us that it was a caravan of "hakabesh" or hakawfi traders. "They kill ekos for their beasts.  They will fear no vengeance from your tribe."  Apparently they traded with other caravans.  If they encountered a couple of individuals, especially none with ties to a local caravan, they would simply rob and murder them.  We longed for the abundant water that they must have, but we turned and rode north, hoping that they had not spotted us despite the warning barks of their dogs.

That night, huddled in the one tent that we had against the wind and swirling sands I could have sworn that I heard the rapid snorting that betrayed a zuribi being ridden close by.  I poked my head out and surveyed the moonlit sands.  It was during Forcellus' watch.  He reported seeing nothing.  I returned to my sleep.

The next morning, Hutal was gone.  He had taken the watch after Forcellus, and had untied the zuribi and vanished with it.  He had probably suspected that our quest was doomed, and took the opportunity to join the Hakabesh caravan, perhaps with the admission price of our zuribi.  Turmond cursed his having saved the man.  There was no question of our retrieving the zuribi, we could not hope to overtake him, and we certainly could not trust the hakabesh if any percent of what he said was true.

In his haste to escape, Hutal had untied not only the zuribi, but also the hakawfi.  Luckily they had not been taken. Veltek's had not even moved, but mine had wandered down the dune.  Forcellus went to fetch it.  I set my mind to breaking camp, then I heard his scream.  Unbelievably, I next saw both Forcellus and the hakawfi being hurtled high into the air along with a great deal of sand.  It was like some form of sand geyser.  Before Forcellus hit the ground several other geysers went off close by.  But these were not geysers, they were some form of creature which now, after having blown away its victim and cover of sand, opened wide its maw ready to catch the prey as it fell.  Apparently others of this creature sensed the action of the first and followed suit hoping to catch the prey should the first creatures' aim be off.

But there was a strong wind that morning and Forcellus drifted slightly and onto the edge of our dune crest barely out of range of the creatures.  The hakawfi likewise drifted, but not far enough to carry it beyond one of the gaping maws which enveloped it and then sunk into the sand in a single move.

Forcellus, attempting to right himself, slipped and rolled down the dune.  He was heading not toward the geyser-beasts but toward a dune trough.

Next: Danger Comes in Pairs

For several seconds time stood still.  Before I could fathom what was happening, I saw Hutal's hakawfi at once kicked into motion and then drop to the ground as if tripped.  As it went down, Hutal extracted his legs in a fluid motion and perched atop the beast like a bird.  Beetles crawled up the beast, but stopped short of engulfing him.  Hutal started keening out of fear.  He looked toward us as a doomed man.  We all suddenly knew that we were all in grave danger.  We scattered away from the beetles, unfortunately riding away from Hutal and toward the edge of the extended sand dune crest that we had been traversing.  The beetles somehow detected the fallen hakawfi and coverged at it.  Hutal had escaped their attention for the moment, but for how long?  Then Forcellus' hakawfi went down.  It was moving too fast to allow Forcellus a graceful landing and he was flung end over end and down the side of the dune and out of sight.  The zuribi tethered to Forcellus' hakawfi had become entangled when the latter beast fell, and it writhed in an attempt to escape.  Beetles converged on the hawafi and swarmed onto the zuribi as well, but the powerful lizard seemed to better resist their attack, but when the insects reached the lizard's neck it was delivered a stinging paralytic and the zuribi went suddenly still.  Turmond, Veltek and I backed away from the scene.  Turmond was the first to take action.  He had noticed that the lizard was resistant and apparently decided to run for Hutal.  "No!" I shouted as he urged his zuribi into action.  He made a mad dash toward Hutal and did not even pause in scooping up the smaller man and bounded away.  We rode to the edge of the dune to see where Forcellus had ended up, hoping that there were no beetles there.  We immediately saw him, lying on his back in a deep trough of sand.  If the stories of the kebesh were true, this could be bad.  They had warned us against such places.  Creatures hid beneath the surface of the trough and used it to accept hapless meals falling in.  They also told us that danger often travels in pairs, often with one creature complimenting and aiding the other by choice or happenstance.

The beetles now seemed to be wholly occupied with the three beasts they had claimed so we dismounted several feet above the unmoving Forcellus. I called to him several times, but he gave no answer.  Breaking out a length of rope, I tied one end to my hakawfi.  Veltek grabbed the other end from me, eyeing me and saying decisively "we cannot lose you."  He headed down the sliding sand toward Forcellus.  I scanned the edges of the sand for any sign of movement.  I had no idea of what I was looking for beyond beetles. I saw nothing beyond slipping sand.  We were lucky for once, there was nothing there.  Veltek tied the rope around Forcellus, and then awkwardly stood the larger man.  He was hopeless to carry him up the sliding sand of the dune, but he managed to get him up several feet, and out of the danger of being buried by sand for the moment.  Forcellus had apparently been stung by one of the beetles as he was totally paralyzed.  His eye were open, and we could hear him attempting to speak, but he was only able to produce a gurgling sound.

Turmond and Hutal appeared on the crest of the adjacent dune.  They were walking and leading Turmond's zuribi.  Soon we were all together.  The beetles were no longer visible.  They had entered the bodies of the carrion.  From our distance we could see an occasional twitch from the creatures, their skin animated by the presence of thousands of beetles inside them.

Eventually, and thankfully, Forcellus came around.  "I will never get to ride a damn zuribi" was the first thing he said.

Next: An Endless Search

Even though we now garnered respect by our fellow travelers, they still looked at us like we were crazy when we took our leave.  We asked Hutal if he would be willing to come with us.  At first he declined, but eventually we won him over with enough money.

Turmond had finally mastered the riding of a zuribi. Forcellus' leg wound would not allow him to grip the beast well enough to do the same.  In any case, we had paid for two of the beasts, as well as two hakawfi for Veltek and myself.  So we bought another hakawfi for Forcellus to ride, and his zuribi was tethered to that beast.

Finally loaded and ready, we took our leave of the kebeshi caravan.  Hutal told us with a general easterly wave of his hand "ereki, that way."  A bit too vague for comfort, yet that was what we had.  Hutal attempted a pretense of more knowledge than I could sense that he had, but I did not care.  We needed him more for his desert survival knowledge.

When the caravan was well away, I asked Turmond to unwrap the elemental staff which he had held hidden within his pack.  We had to take the chance that Hutal would not steal it and run off.  He now respected our strength, and we would be watching him and it carefully.  As Turmond held the staff aloft at my request, I attempted something that I was not at all sure would work.  The staff was now not only a powerful spiritual representation of Air, Fire and Earth, but it was also an object of great desire for Water.  Like us standing in that desert, it was parched for Water but unlike us, Water sought its thirst.  Looking at the staff, I cast as wide an Empathic Tracking as I could manage.  I was hoping to detect the desire of Water, and hopefully follow that emotion to it's source.  Even better would have been to use Locate Object, but I had no known object to focus on.  If there was some water gem of some kind that was to be added, I could locate that if I had ever felt that gem emotionally.  But like the spell Legend, Locate Object was doomed to failure as this staff had been designed to reconstruct itself from newly found materials.  The old materials might have contained emotional imprints that I could have used, but this staff defied such skills probably by design.  And this is perhaps too much information to be of interest.  In any case, I knew that my Empathic Tracking was the best I tool that I had, but I also knew that it would only help up to a limited distance.  And so we would move and I would track.  And do it again.  And again.  And hope.  I got nothing from that first tracking.  So we headed due east. 

Despite our expectations of ereki, we encountered nothing but sand for most of the afternoon.  Just before dusk, Hutal, who was in the lead, abruptly stopped his hakawfi.  He frantically motioned for us to stop as well.  Forcellus was about to dismount when he cried out "no! do not move at all."  We were mystified.  "What is it?" I cried out.  He waved me to silence and appeared to be searching the sand around him.  I could see nothing anywhere.  The horizon was clear.  There was little wind.  We were alone.  Had the sun baked his brain?  Forcellus looked at me curiously.  Tied to the hakawfi which he rode was his zuribi.  That beast suddenly shifted uneasily, and then shrieked. I caught a slight movement beneath it.  A subtle shifting of sand. And then in one horrifying second the ground turned black all around us revealing a sea of of black beetles.  Stirred into action now Hutal screamed "ride!  Fast!" and violently kicked his hakawfi into motion.

Next: The Desert Takes a Toll

Turmond was altered after that day.  He and Forcellus already felt a bit intimidated by their limited ability as jinna (security). They felt a bit like posing children.  But Turmond now felt like he actually was a detriment.  It did not matter that the Kebeshi actually respected him a bit more for trying.  They would simply shrug as if to say, "this happens.  There is little that can be done."  But he knew that he was the one that actually ended the traders life, not the dervish.  It did not matter that the victim was doomed anyway.  We all reflected his grave mood.  If we had been lured away from our serious task by the prospect of adventure, we were now firmly back in our malaise.

The climate did not help.  It was unpleasant in the extreme.  No matter what remedy we sought, the heat, dryness, and blinding brightness were unavoidable.  We lived with cloth wrapped around our faces.  Only in the tent at night was there relief.  The Kebeshi had a night time routine.  The caravan would settle in a elevated sand dune containing a dimple.  This would keep us above being covered by moving sand, yet hidden from the marauding nomadic tribes they called the Poonabesh.  Our jinna herded everyone into a circle, tents on the outside of the circle turned inward, hakawfi in the very center surrounded by the tents.  The jinnawould then ride around the outside of the tents scattering some kind of granular substance called "betnak" with was supposed to help keep away hordes of seven-foot long nocturnal snapping lizards called "wuna."  I desperately hoped that it would work.

By my reckoning it should only have been two days to the area that I imagined would contain the ereki.  But the kebeshi were not in a hurry.  Traveling the troughs of the dunes would seem to have been faster than slipping along the crests, but Hutal only shook his head and mumbled "stribish."  I would later come to fear that word more than any other.

On our second night, we met up with the feared Poona nomads.  I had been asleep for a few hours when I heard the loud bleating of the hakawfi.  I heard men shouting.  I peered out of the cloth tent that I and Veltek shared and saw two men squaring off not ten yards from me.  There was a collapsed tent near them, apparently across which the invaders were entering the caravan circle.  I recognized Forcellus as one of the combatants.  The other was a dark complected man holding two small semi-circular blades, one in each hand.  Nearby were other of our jinna similarly occupied.  Immediately there was a clash of blades throughout the camp.  The invader facing Forcellus swung his blades in a rapid circular pattern.  It was like some kind of dance.  It might have been comical under other circumstances, Forcellus with his massive steel standing solidly against this prancing howling maniac.  The other jinn had scimitars, long curved blades - not as small as the poona's "zinga" weapons.  But we had all been too long at the mercy of the various elements arrayed against us.  Violence of this nature did not intimidate us.  We were all up and out.  My Suggestion spells had many running and sprawling down the sides of dunes.  Veltek gave a spectacular show of lightning as he unleashed one Energy Storm after another, and both Forcellus and Turmond managed to best their zinga-spinning opponents despite substantial wounds.  In the end, they scattered.  Our jinna following on zuribi and hacking them as they ran.  We regained our respect that night.

I had hoped that that we would be able to return to our sleep.  But instead, we had to move the entire camp.  Apparently the carnage would be a powerful attractant to wuna that mere betnak could not repel.

Next: On Our Own

Had I fully known of the dangers we would be facing, I probably would have sounded an eager retreat.  But in my naivety, I embraced the challenge.  The Kebeshi caravan was rather small, they told me, merely "fifty hakawfi" in size.  This meant that there were fifty sturdy beasts (like oxen) called "hakawfi" that travelled with us, carrying everything including tents, goods, water and us.  These were gentle slow moving beasts that apparently could hold a great deal of weight, and store a good deal of internal water for themselves as well.  Some of the security men rode "zuribi," a much faster lizard mount as large as a tall man that stood erect on two powerful legs.  Apparently riding a zuribi is a developed skill.  Forcellus demonstrated this most visibly on the day before we rode out of Ekos when he was pitched violently from the back of one of the beasts on his first attempt at riding one.  He only became less a source of laughter by the caravaneers upon Turmond's attempt - in which he managed to bounce off a nearby hakawfi before hitting the ground.  They both rode hakawfi out of town. 

Naturally no one could speak Domish.  The only person in the caravan that could speak any amount of Traisgan became our translator.  His name was Hutal and often needed a coin or two to aid his linguistic memory beyond monosyllables.  Hutal did begin by commenting to the others that I would fetch a smart price in certain markets.  It unnerved him that I was the only one in our party that could answer him.  My coins soothed his predjudice  I was a slaga, but a rich slaga.

As we passed the last of the buildings that mark the end of the city of Ekos, we saw giant reinforced berms scattered about.  Made apparently out of rock, sand and garbage and piled several stories high.  "To keep out the sand" Hutal had said.  We climbed over one of the berms and saw an ocean of sand stretching out before us.  Hutal made a motion of his hand over his head and looked at us with a grin.  His motion meant "the sand goes over your head and covers you."

Once in the sand of the Khaniz barrens, all communication stopped.  Roped together at a short distance from each other we plodded along in single file, the wind and sand swirling around us.  I felt profound isolation.  What was a raylan doing in this desolate place?  Yet the place was not desolate as we were soon to discover.  After a few hours the wind picked up into a punishing sandstorm.  We were herded by the security men on zuribi into a mob on the top of a dune of sand.  Hopefully we would remain elevated and not be buried by the rapidly shifting waves of sand.  Suddenly something hurtled by me, nearly hitting me.  It was like a thick ribbon of leather flapping and fluttering by at great speed.  It went past me and slapped into one of the Kebeshi merchants a few yards away.  The thing hit him square in the face and he was torn from his hakawi and flung to the ground.  Turmond was closest to him and quickly dismounted and pushed past the man's hakawfi.  To his shock, Turmond saw that the man grappled with some kind of wide flat snake, like a dismembered tentacle, it's muscled length wrapped aound his face.  Part of the creature was extending into the man's throat and he was gagging.  Turmond attempted to rip the creature off but it was too strong.  He took out his knife and started to cut.  The creature writhed and deflected Turmond's blade.  Applying more pressure, Turmond tore into the creature which quickly twisted using Turmond's might to send the knife deeply into the Kebeshi's neck.  Blood gushed from his mouth.  Moments later he was dead. With tears in his eyes, Turmond kept hacking at the beast until it too, was dead.

Next: An Unsettling Night

The institution that we found ourselves in was a sort of University that attempted to mix the knowledge and cultures of the north and south and to better understand their effect on each other.  Galefi was it's headmaster.  It was also a language school and a Necromancy school with a bit of Energetics thrown in as well.  Once the preliminary small talk was passed, Galefi turned out to be a frank and engaging conversationalist.  At least until the effects of the medjool liquor that he insisted we sample took effect, after which we were no better off than he.

He listen with rapt attention at our description of the darkness in the north.  I did not mention the staff, nor of our quest.  I asked him if he knew of Zenabesh, the ancient storehouse of magics in the mountains north and west of Ekos.  He responded as I hoped he would, confirming my suspicion that Zenabesh had been breached. "It happened over fifty years ago" he said.  "A Had (man of magics) named Quarak and his followers broke in, but did not retain their spoils.  The items found their way into the hands of thieves from many lands.  Your darkness is undoubtedly caused by one of these magics.  Deniz-Mens [the great ruler of Deniz Zorbesh] has established the Order of the Zenabesh, a cabal dedicated to the destroying of the magics.  For if they could not be protected by the great ancient magics, far superior to our own, then we can not hope to contain them now."

I decided then not to reveal the elemental staff to Galefi.  His zeal convinced me that he would, with all good intentions, try to commandeer it and give it to the Zenabesh Order.  I could not take the chance.  I did tell him that we were making a pilgrimage to the legendary lost city of Neriz, out of "curiosity".  Shaking his head, he said "there is no such place any longer.  It was destroyed in ages past."  "Who destroyed it?" I asked.  "Thousands of years ago the ancient Entarans succumbed to the forces of chaos, and tore apart the city of their human overlords." I asked if there were any Entarans left.  "Not that I know of, he answered.  "They are related to the modern day Ereki, an insect desert creature that burrows beneath the sands in a wide area that probably encompasses the location of the city of Neriz.  They are dangerous" he added looking at my face and accurately reading my elevated interest.  I was undaunted.  I had already heard tales of the shifting sands of the Khaniz barrens burying and uncovering ruins, caravans, perhaps even cities?  If the Ereki were dangerous, perhaps few ventured there to see a revealed city.  I voiced my hopes.  "It's possible" Galefi said with a shrug, "but not likely."  I looked at my companions.  Turmond was reticent, Forcellus non-committal, and Veltek, of course, shared and exceeded my curiosity.  "Are there guides?" I asked.  "No, not really.  There are those that will offer, but unless you know them they are as likely to take your money and run off, or worse.  Your best bet would be to accompany a recognized Kebeshi caravan, employed as security - as they always need them due to their low survival rate.  Or, if you are rich, you can pay them.  But at some point you will have to take your leave of them, for they will not venture into Ereki lands.  And you will have to come back on your own, because they will be bound for far away Khaniz-beth in the south."

After another day with Galefi, we took our leave.  During that day we contacted a reputable Kebeshi caravan.  We paid our way into the caravan, but at a reduced rate as Turmond and Forcellus signed on to security detail for our portion of the trip.  They wanted to experience the dangers up close, as we would soon be facing them on our own.

Next: The Kebeshi Caravan

No one was happier than I to see the Port of Ekos Zorbesh from the prow of the ship.  The four of us had copiously rid ourselves of body weight during our ordeal, and we all longed to touch ground.  Captain Zhamalan waited and only displayed relief we at last actually left his ship. 

As it often does, the shamanic journey I took only seemed to raise more questions, not provide any answers.  The large force was obviously our enjoined elements and the opponent was Water.  The journey seemed to imply that our fate is predisposed.  I could make no active decisions.  I hoped that this meant that a 'plan' on my part was really unnecessary.  Seeking the lost city of Neriz should still be our immediate plan, as that was my intention while on the Shamanic Journey.

Ekos Zorbesh was a crowded place.  The only Zorbeshi port on the Marepize, it was the only port of trade to the north in this quarter of the hemisphere.  Language very quickly became a problem.  Few Domish sailors came here.  Most of the trade apparently came from ports in Traisge.  Luckily I had a smattering of Traisgan having entertained visiting nobles in DOM.  Veltek knew a tiny bit of Ezmeri (as it seems that Energeticists share written knowledge to some degree) but that actually proved an impediment on occasion as the Ezmeri are not considered friends of Ekos Zorbesh (who's allegiance is to the Zokesh-worshipping Deniz Zorbesh, who have been rivals of the Ezmeri for generations.)  It's all a bit complicated.

We had spent several frustrating hours attempting to communicate regarding Neriz, and garnering only blank stares.  Ironically, then language-challenged Forcellus had to do most of the communicating.  I was pegged as a slaga not worth talking to, Veltek was regarded as a detested Ezmeri (as we suspected he would be) and Turmond was younger than Forcellus and less commanding.  We were all "ekos" of course, and so a level of distaste was added as a matter of course.  Eventually, we managed to get pointed toward a somewhat large building near the center of town as a recourse for answers.  Looking like some form of monastery we rang a large bell at the gate which was centered in a wall surrounding the grounds.  By this time were prepared to wait awhile for entrance.

Everything happens here at a glacial pace.  Even the simplest transaction can take an hour what with praising each other, dealing, feinting, bartering, drinking each others health, then finally concluding.  We had experienced this first hand, as we had vastly overdressed for the punishing heat and had needed to amend our wardrobe.

After repeatedy ringing the bell, we were finally let in by an elderly man whose face bore the lines and weathering of the climate.  He eyed us up, but unlike the other city dwellers seemed not to immediately reject us as vermin.  "Come" he said in Domish, then stopped to point to Forcellus' sword.  Forcellus removed it and extended it hilt first.  The man eyed him up and seemed to make a decision, then turned and walked off without taking it.  We followed him into a main central building.  He took us to another older man, a bit less weathered and with a substantially wider girth.

"May your hakawfi trod the abundant path" he said in perfect but accented Domish.  He waited, looking at us.  Forcellus, looking amused replied "May your hakawfi bring you riches".  The man laughed amusedly at Forcellus' crude attempt to begin the flattering session. "I am Galefi" the man announced, waving off the other five or so compliments that usually were proffered.  "At your service".

Next: A Sea of Sand

The voyage to the port of Ekos almost proved the end of us.  The first day out we were racked by immense ocean swells.  The captain of our vessel, Zhamalan, quickly came to regard us as an unlucky transport.  "Sea with anger" he reported in Domish with an accent that made the pronouncement sound evil and ominous as well as simply dangerous.  I supposed that he faced this sort of thing all of the time, but by the looks he gave us, he seemed to think that we were responsible.  He especially targeted me for his malevolent gaze.  The others in the crew would mumble "slaga" and "ekos" and avoid my eyes.  Slaga was their term for a Raylan, and it was not spoken in ant flattering way.  Ekos, as it turns out, means "foreign/foreigner".  At first I ignored their slights, then they started to bother me.  I was about to promote that to outrage until I realized that they actually had a point.  Not about me - but about us.  Our ship was passing over Hadulos, the ancestral home of of the Sahag and of the Water element.  We possessed a powerful symbol of Air, Fire and Earth.  If Water was trying to claim us in this little merchant ship,  it would be our fault for choosing this path.

On the third day out, when the ship was nearly swamped at one point, I decided to huddle down below deck and try a Shamanic Journey to seek illumination of this problem.  I knew that our ultimate solution was to include the Water element into the staff, but short of throwing the staff into the ocean I had no actual plan.

It was very hard to concentrate, but once I had made it past the usual impediments to entry, I passed into the pink mist of the shamanic spirit world.  Faces from the past swirled past me appearing and disappearing into the mist beaconing me to follow and interact.  But my intent was too strong for their temptations and I willed myself forward.  This had become easier each time I went in.  Finally, the mist cleared and I was standing in a grassy field in what appeared to be late autumn.  There were dark clouds in the distance.  I then suddenly realized that there was an entire army at my back.  All arrayed on horseback, weapons bristling.  A line of soldiers extending as far as I could see.  Looking back toward the clouds I began to see a smaller approaching force - apparently in opposition to the one at my back.  As they approached, I noticed that some of the combatants clearly resembled those that stood behind me.  They were related in some way.  Then, two men from the opposition side dismounted and began walking to the center of the field, and straight toward me.  One man from the army at my back did the same.  Suddenly I was in a parlay of some kind.  No words were forthcoming though.  It was like a pantomime.  There seemed to be a king here of some kind from both sides, also myself and some kind of counterpart to me from the opposition side.  The king from my side produced a sealed document.  Then they all looked at me.  They seemed to regard my non-comment as some form of agreement.  They nodded at me in acceptance.  I tried to ask aloud "what is going on?" They simply pointed to my feet.  It was then that I noticed that I was standing in a pool of water.  Somehow that made sense, though I could not recall how.  At a sign from my opposing counterpart, another soldier dismounted on their side and walked up.  The king from my side handed him his sealed letter.  Then our king simply vanished.  The newcomer took his place on our side.  My counterpart reached out and I and he shook hands.  Then all retreated back to their armies.  The last thing I saw were the black clouds in the distance, drawing closer.

Next: Galefi and the University