Chapter I: The Far East

Over sands the wind whipped hot air, shaving the tops of dunes off under the clear moonlight. Near a crackling torch on the banister of his palace room, Somel, eyes adrift the desert ocean, dreamed of the dark horizon and what lay beyond it. 

The dreamers of the day make their dreams come true. And those who sleep in the mirror of night waste their ambitions. His mother had told him that, before she ventured out into the desert on her great ship, SunSpear, never to return…

Somel was dark skinned like many of the peoples born in the eastern deserts, far beyond the Topaz seas. His eyes were dark, and his face young, bold, and cut by smiling lines. On his hip, he wore his silver curved sword in a decorated scabbard; it was always at his side. His name for it was Fire Dancer because in the sun the silver blade shone like a flame. 

On his camel, Bae Bae, he trod through the arid hills just off the coast of the Great Desert Sea. With him was a short line of his house soldiers, and retainers on their own camels. Each had a unique skill, and profession. 

Just behind him on a black camel was his best friend, Remael Kiz Albaza. He was a tad touch darker than Somel, his skin almost black in comparison. He too wore a blade of brilliance, though not silver and not curved. Remael was a fan of Western swords. He liked all things exotic to the eastern provinces. 

It was a wonder to Somel that Remael did not find a horse to ride instead. Atop his black camel, Rajira, Remael looked quite the sight, almost fully black except for his brightly colored clothes. 

“Somel, my friend. Are you sure you know where you are headed? There have been no other travelers on this road since we left Bir Jahara,” Remael said to his old friend. 

“And do not expect to see them. We are near the Great Desert. The only travel past these hills is by sand ship,” Somel called back with exuberance. He could smell the sand in the air. 

“Oh, great.” Remael said to himself. He was not as excited about their adventure as Somel. As if to exaggerate that point, Remael sneezed multiple times when dust flew into his face. 

From the end of the pack rode up a bright white stallion. Atop it rode Tiati, a sea pirate of much renown and wealth. She was a beauty, with golden skin, and dark black hair. Unlike the desert men, she wore clothes that captured the sun, hung loose off her body, and covered only what it had to. Her eyes were stiflingly blue. 

“Somel. The water for the group is almost dry. I have rationed it well, but your vassals seem to have drank without restraint,” she spoke harshly. 

Tiati always took things too seriously for Somel. She was a great warrior, he had seen it first hand back at the palace, and he was sure she knew how to sail marvelously. One thing Tiati did not do was partake in the joys of life on land. 

“Worry not, little Tiati. We drink as we please. These sands will not swallow our bones,” he said back with pride, and then to himself, “They wouldn’t dare.” 

“That’s what you say until your camels die of thirst and your men start to turn on you,” she spat back. 

“This is not a boat, Tiati. It is dry land. If we need water we simply walk to it. The land will provide.” Tiati was not impressed. 

She hated the journey so far. Back at the palace, it seemed like a fun adventure to go sailing in the desert sea, something she had always dreamed of. Now, without water, and no assurance of how far they would travel, she was reconsidering the idea. Water was her place. The desert made her nervous. 

Somel continued, “We are a desert people, Tiati. Do not worry.” But that didn’t ease her mind at all. 

He climbed the next hill before she spoke again, “So then, what do you expect us to do when we are out of water?” He stopped at the zenith, and looked back at her and Remael who listened intently once he heard the water was gone. It seemed he didn’t believe in the desert as much as Somel did. 

“Well,” Somel said, smiling, “we buy more.” As Tiati and Ramael reached the small summit they saw what he was smiling at. Down below was a wide expanse of tents and small dirt buildings. The little city was nestled in the arid hills, but also met the “shore” of the desert sea where the cracked dirt turned into pure sand almost with no ceremony, and expanded out beyond the horizon. 

The Great Desert Sea, where the dunes rose and fell like ocean waves and where even the flattest sands could be surfed upon by “sunships”. The sight put a fire in Somel’s belly. He had dreamed of this moment his entire childhood. Even Tiati and Remael were silenced by its greatness.

Tiny ships could already be seen skirting over the desert floor off into the unknown. There was an island of rocky cliffs in the distant north, but that was it. Otherwise, it was dry clean sand. 

They could also see a port down below, on the border of where the packed earth met the sand sea. The structures there were the biggest in the city, but still mostly large tents. Ships of all kinds were housed in or around the area. Their masts poked far above the tent roofs like wooden spires. 

Somel’s eyes sparkled. Finally, it was time.

“Four of these will cost you one camel.” A fat man with a funny accent told Somel’s merchant retainer. He was bald, and his clothes were bad, but each finger had a gold ring on it, and he had a necklace with an amulet holding a sapphire the size of an almond in it. 

“Four is no good,” His retainer, Rif, told him. “Each camel can carry the value of eight.” They were haggling for packages containing rigging, sails, and extra lumber for repairs. 

“Are you sure?” Somel couldn’t believe the fat man was trying to cheap him so much.

“Most definitely,” Rif was a good character, solid, loyal, and very wise in the council of money. If he said so, then it was true.

“Fat man. You are trying to cheat us.” The fat man blinked. Then anger overtook him.

“Fat man? Who are you calling fat? My name is Azir. Azir! I am the best shipping merchant this side of the great sea. Princes bargain with me, that’s how great I am. And you call me fat. I should charge you double for these,” he spat.

“You already are. We will find another. Thank you for your time.” Somel started to walk away. Azir, the fat man, bit his tongue, and looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then he chased after Somel and Rif. 

“Okay, okay. Wait. I will raise it to five, but you are cheating me now.”

“Now, I don’t think you are a fat man. I think I should call you thief instead, because you are stealing my time.” Somel continued to walk away.

“Okay! Listen to me. Six. I will give you six,” Azir said, gripping Somel’s shoulder to make him stop. When Somel whipped around, Azir let go immediately, regretting the decision. “Six. I will give you six,” he repeated. When Somel looked disinterested, he continued, “Final offer.” And with that he waved his hands signaling the conversation was over if Somel refused.

Somel simply walked away without an answer. Azir wiped his bald head with his hand, a look of pain on his face. 

“I will give you seven!” He shouted after him. Somel turned back.

“Nine,” Somel countered. The word hurt Azir’s head. He winced. “Nine,” Somel repeated. With hesitation the man agreed.

“Fine. Nine,” he said reluctantly as if he had just stubbed his toe on something. He stuck out his hand to finalize the trade. Upon Somel’s embrace they shook on it and the deal was solidified. 

Somel knew a camel was worth a lot at the port, where distant travelers arrived in droves in need of camels. Azir could charge whatever he wanted and would make a good profit in any case.

They traded the rest of their camels for a great ship, a two decked Sundrifter with three sails. It had a small captain’s quarter on the top deck, and smaller first hand’s quarters below deck where the rest of the crew bunked together in hammocks and cots. The ship was simple, but beautiful.

When Somel met eyes with it, a smile crept across his face. It was his. And soon the seas would be too.

“A fine purchase, my prince,” spoke Rif. He was not surprised by Somel’s merchant abilities, but was greatly appreciative of them. Many little lords, princes and kings met costs with careless spending. Though Somel seemed a prince in all ways exaltent and lavish, the young man had wit and savvy beyond his years. “This is a grand ship.”

“I agree most wholeheartedly.”

“What will you call it?”

“Sundrift,” Somel said with reverence. A ship of his own… He was captain of his own ship, his own Sundrift.

The day stretched on. Cargo was put in its place. Crewmembers found their spots below deck to make their own. The deck was swept and polished, and everything squared away. As the sun yawned in big red light, the nerves of the crew grew, the reality of the desert becoming clear to them.

In the dusk, the sands glowed red like blood. It was so fine, so precious, as thin as water almost. In Somel’s hands it ran through his fingers in red streams, splitting and floating in the air like shards of glass, drifting away in the breeze. 

And it stretched as far as the eye could see. Without the blinding sun overhead, the desert was serene. Quiet. Beautiful. 

“There are secrets in the sands…” his father whispered in his youthful ear while they sat together in his father’s room. A giant window let in the desert, and little Somel’s eyes even then were adrift at sea. “...that not even kings know. A person can sail as far as the next horizon and see nothing, but have crossed over ancient cities buried under the desert, along with their lost peoples. The desert is much like the hourglass. As time continues, sand fills the bottom of the glass, burying everything beneath. But, the truth of all is in the second secret, my son. Time has a second nature, and over time the sand from the top will drop away and reveal what was buried beneath so long ago.” 

Somel was enthralled by his father’s words, his mind running wild with images of palaces under the sand, entire cities hidden beneath his feet. His mind also stuck on shining treasures buried long ago. 

Curiously, but afraid of the answer, he asked, “Are there people under the sand?” 

“We can never know. Only the desert truly knows that secret,” he told his son. That did not ease Somel’s mind. 

Thoughts of being stuck under the desert floor, living consumed by sand in complete darkness like the emperors of old, terrified his young imagination. Somel couldn’t remove, either, the thought of walking on the sand when suddenly old withered, weather blasted hands pop out from under him to grab his ankles, and pull him under. But on the other hand, the mystery of what laid beneath enticed him all the more.

“This must be a joke! I will not let my son, my heir go wandering in the desert like an aimless pilgrim. What is this madness?” His father yelled at him the first time Somel spoke of his dreams. “Think of your people. Do not be so selfish as to abandon your place here at my side. You are a ruler, not a camel rider or sand pirate.” Somel’s mind was already made up, and he wouldn’t change it, for anyone.

“What better way to rule than to be among the people I rule?” He chided back.

“Oh, I will not hear this. You try to convince me this is to better your rule, but I know you. Your heart is set on treasure hunting, and glory.”

“A ruler should be rich and glorious.”

“A ruler should do what’s best for his people.”

Without a word, Somel simply turned and walked out of his father’s throne room, his siblings looking on in horror as he did. He couldn’t argue anymore. His father would never understand. 

His father snapped off his throne and shouted, “Then you are no longer my heir. Child of mine you may yet be, but no thrones or titles wait for you when you return, if you ever do.” 

Stolen story; please report.

The discussion had happened years ago. Somel had been afraid he’d be kicked from the palace to wander like a vagabond in the city streets, but no, his father would never do that to him. It was true though, he lost all his titles and future. But Somel didn’t care. 

Titles were for rulers and bureaucrats. He was a sand snake now, like his mother, like the many peoples of the desert before him. Somel had four brothers and two sisters, all eligible for his title and role. His father would have his heir regardless.

Somel stood off the side of his new ship and watched the sun droop behind the cliffs far to the north. The sky was purple now, like freshly squeezed grapes, or spilled wine. 

The memory of his father’s disdain played in his head over and over. Would his father’s mind be changed if he could see Somel on his ship? Would he be proud?

The first time Somel had stepped aboard Sundrift his heart fluttered. It felt as if something had finally awoken within him. He could feel the deck at his feet, almost feel the sway of the ship on the sands, almost feel the sand in the dry air whip his face. The pride he felt at that moment, how could his father not appreciate this like he did?

The rest of his crew rested on deck, sitting around after their work had completed. Some laid against the floor, others sat on the banisters sipping water like fish. They had done good work today. The ship was immaculate. 

But, he knew in their hearts they were afraid. And tomorrow, the sun seas would find them. 

With half of his remaining gold he sent Calif, his personal servant, into town to find wine, food, and as much water as he could to bring back to the ship. When Calif returned with ten other servants, they all carried boxes of food, grapes, fireberries, fireberry wines, ales, boxes of sun fruits, lemons, casks of water, and freshly baked breads, and cooked foods.

Somel climbed atop the banister of his captain’s quarters, on the captain’s deck. From there he called out to his crew while, to their surprise, the boxes of goods were hoisted up onto the ship, “This night, we celebrate! To a good crew I will raise a cup of wine, and dine with them. Tomorrow we make for the open sand seas where adventure and peril await us. But, do not worry, for so too waits glory and riches. Like our ancestors before us, we are a desert people, and true dominion over the sands is our destiny.

“What better way to show this dominion than by sailing the sands, and uncovering its mysteries? Dine well, my crew. Much like the hourglass, our old lives are being buried by the night, and our new lives will be uncovered in the morning light. To our new lives!” At that Somel raised his wine cup. 

His crew cheered, the first sign of their approval since the journey started. They all started to unpack the boxes being hoisted up to them. Tiati commanded over them, barking orders on where to start and what to stow and what to eat.  

Then, the night’s merriment commenced. 

They ate, and told stories of each other, and of their captain, Somel, who the entire crew had known since he were a child. The men and women aboard laughed cheerily at the stories of young Somel. And, to the dismay of Ramael, the same was done of him. He sat beside Somel with an annoyed look on his face. Every so often the wine would make him lash out at a crewmember for laughing at him, but the crewmate would laugh more harmlessly and so too anyone listening in.

The event progressed into the night and the food and wine that had been brought up disappeared steadily. Somel enjoyed some wine himself, but was careful not to indulge too much. A captain always needed a clear head. 

In the meantime he listened to the stories, the singing and the music of his crew. Because of their fear, Somel was sure, they were extra careful to drink all the more, and to make merry as much as possible. Not much of the food or wine stood a chance against this rabble that night. 

Even poor Rif let loose too. By midnight, his head drooped against his chest and his body drooped against the railing of the ship. He looked dead, he was so drunk. 

Tiati was the loudest among them. With a belly full of wine and ale she hopped from banister to railing, from net to rigging, climbing on the sails at one point in the night and cheering out into the desert with a long call. Near the end of the affair, she stood at the front of the ship, egging on the crew to sing one of her pirate songs. The poor crew struggled with the language of her people in their drunken state. 

Her spirits seemed to have turned. Somel was sure she would have turned back home if they had gone any further on foot. The desert scared westerners, and terrified sea pirates, but he knew she’d love sailing the open sands. Despite her good mood, Somel was suspicious Tiati, like the rest of the crew, was hiding her fear behind her drink. Regardless, he smiled at her antics. She was a good choice for quartermaster.

The only other person who limited themself was Somel’s captain of the guard, Niziro. Niziro was from the western shores of the desert lands, and though not a westerner like Tiati, his skin was much lighter than Somel’s or his people’s. He had no hair at all, but thick bushy brows. Niziro was also built like a bull with thick muscled arms and a stocky body.

He was much like Tiati in dress, with only as much clothing that covered the vital areas of his body, freeing his legs and arms and head. Even Somel wondered how he stood the sun in such garb. 

Another way he was like Tiati was that he took no nonsense from those lower to him. Always with crossed arms, and a cross face, Niziro commanded respect in all situations. It helped too that a curved greatsword hung at his side in a black scabbard, and a black round shield always hung at his back during the day. 

Now, he scowled over the crew, arms crossed, eyes constantly on the move for any rif raff he’d have to squash. Somel did not like the man’s company, but did appreciate his skills in combat. 

Suddenly, Niziro looked over the side of the ship at some noise. 

His face hardened and he shouted at someone below, “Who goes there?” The response was lost in the merrymaking. Somel watched curiously from his sitting spot near the door to his quarters. When Niziro found his gaze, Niziro waved him over.

Somel stood and made his way through the crowd, but a hand found its way to his shoulder, and pulled him close. Wine breath met his nostrils as Kef, a young soldier, wrapped his arm around Somel’s shoulder, and face to face started drunkenly speaking, “Whizat capn, hiccup, from the sea, hiccup, to the sands?” Somel had no idea what he was saying, and though not angry, he was annoyed at the young man’s sour breath. 

Niziro, infuriated, stomped through the crowd, grabbing the man’s arm from around Somel. He tossed it aside like a dead fish and stuck a finger in the man’s face, yelling at him, “Keep your stinking fingers off the captain, or I’ll hang you off the side of the ship when we set sail.” Kef, wide eyed, backed away. Even in his drunken state he was afraid of the quartermaster. 

“Shameful,” Niziro spat as he led Somel to the side of the ship. Somel laughed to himself at what just happened. “Call out your name!” Niziro shouted below when Somel approached the railing. 

Down below came a fragile voice from the dark, the shadow of the ship concealing the speaker, “I am Elantra. A westerner from across the Topaz seas. I call upon you for safe passage if you will have me.” The woman’s voice was frail, and hard to hear over the drunken state of the ship. 

Niziro met Somel’s eyes, wondering what to do. Somel nodded. “Let her up,” he said. “Bring her to my quarters.” 

Somel retreated to the captain’s quarters. 

Inside, a candle lit the room, casting sharp shadows over the cramped space. There was a bed, a small desk facing the door, and little area for storage all within a foot of eachother. It was exactly what Sommel wanted. 

The door opened, Niziro ushered in a hooded figure. He spat some words at two armed desert men who argued with him outside the door. The argument was silenced when the door was shut. 

Then it was just the hooded woman and Somel in the quiet of a candle stick. 

Her robes were sand dusted, but fine. Green fine material but left plain, the girl looked out of place in so much orange sand. Her skirt was a bright fine series of blue inlaid within eachother. She looked western, no doubt. 

And what is a western girl doing here?

“I apoligize for my escort. The hired swords here are aggressive.” Somel knew what she meant. The desert this far out was a hard place. It made people rough and coarse.

“It does not worry me in the slightest. I am no traveler to these lands. But you, you look as fresh to these parts as snow. What is it you are looking for in the deep of the night?” The girl was mysterious, no doubt, but her height was so short fear passed right by him. Hooded figures were no good. But this one seemed barely an adult. 

“I need a ship to take me to Romel. I learned this one was leaving tomorrow. Is this true?”

“Sure it is,” but he was suspicious. He hadn’t even seen her face. “Who is it that asks? A robe is all I have seen enter my quarters and without a name too.”

“I beg your forgiveness,” she said, her voice timid. She withdrew her hood showing a pale face with pink cheeks, gold and brown hair, and eyes of emeralds. She was a woman, for sure, but very short. Maybe near thirty, but very fair. “My name is Elantra of House Blackfish. I am a stranger to these lands. Forgive my timidness, but I have no friends here. I seek safe travel to Romel. Are you going there?”

“I go where the seas take me.” She didn’t like this answer.

“And will the seas take you to Romel?”

“They could. But what is in Romel?”

“That is my business.” As if suddenly realizing something, she pulled out a leather pouch and politely set it on the table. Somel opened it, spilling the contents. Gold rings and coins, silver tablets, and charms, and couple of small jewels settled on his tabletop. 

Her voice less timid, Elantra spoke, “That is what is in Romel.” Somel’s eyes shimmered like the jewels. That settled it. 

Outside, Somel met with Niziro. He leaned in his ear and said, “Get rid of these men.” Niziro nodded. 

An argument ensued. Niziro called in a couple of his drunken men and together they hoisted the warriors off the ship and into a lifeboat, dropping them to the sand. Down below, swords angrily clanged against the boat hull one harmless blow after another, before their wielders grew tired and left. 

“This is Elantra,” Somel told Niziro, “She is a ward of this ship now. Protect her as if she were the very captain.” Niziro nodded. “You will stay in my quarters for the trip,” he said, turning to the lady.

Surprised, she started, “No, that is not necessary. I will find an abandoned part of the ship and make it my place for the journey.”

“You can not stay down below with the crew. And the quarters for my second in command are too isolated for a woman like you. For your safety, you will stay in my cabin.”

“A captain should have his quarters, especially for a maiden voyage,” Niziro offered his advice. At the words “maiden voyage” Elantra second guessed her choice of ship. 

“You have not sailed this ship before?”

“Never. So that is why I choose to sleep on its top deck, beneath the sky. Look at that moon,” he said, waving to it. The moon was at its highest and so bright it turned the desert sparkling white. “How can I resist such a thing? No, you will take my quarters and I will sleep beneath the moon, or in a crew mate’s hammock down below, or in the first mate’s quarters because I am the captain, and the captain does as he pleases on his ship.” With that the conversation was over.

When the night died down, Somel and Ramael sat at the bow of the ship together while the crew fell into a drunken sleep. The cloaked lady had retreated to the captain’s quarters. They were alone, the moon shining brightly above, hanging just above the cliff’s in the north where the sun had disappeared.

“I hate the desert,” Ramael spat. “Why did I come on this journey?” His sullen voice made Somel smirk. He was always dramatic. 

“Because your sense of adventure outweighs your sense of danger,” Somel reassured him.

“My sense of loyalty, you mean. I was fine living in the palace.” Somel laughed.

“It was your idea. I did not ask you.”

“No, you didn’t. But our friendship persuaded me to follow you… I hate the sand,” he muttered again to himself. Somel put an arm around him. He knew his friend was just afraid, and drunk.

“Don’t worry my brother. This is drink and fear talking. When you are out on the desert sands, things will be different.” Ramael contemplated quietly for a moment.

“I am ashamed that I am so afraid. More ashamed than afraid to be truthful. Do you think that I am cowardly?” The honesty surprised Somel. Ramael hadn’t ever been this genuine with himself before. 

“No. Of course not. Do not be ashamed of your fear. It is a good thing. To share the truth of my heart, I am afraid as well.”

“Truly? You wear it well.”

“That is because I am not afraid of the seas, or of dying. I am only afraid of losing men and women under my command. It would shatter me to lose someone who has tried so hard to bring to life my selfish dreams of adventure.” Ramael understood this. “I know I can not avoid it forever, but selfishly, I hope it never happens.” Ramael gripped his friend's hand from his shoulder and pressed it tightly for a moment. 

Then they both sat in quiet contemplation, nervous for the journey, yet relieved at voicing their fears. 

The night dissipated and in some way their fears did too.

The captain was the first to rise, having slept on the bow of the ship. Before any other woke, he paced the length of Sundrift several times in the stillness of the morning. Anticipation filled him.

The crew held high spirits despite their lack of sleep and pounding headaches. Tiati and Niziro kicked at them with equal vigor, spitting orders with vicious authority until they were set to depart. By late morning the ship was prepped and ready.  

The crew manned their positions. Everyone aboard Sundrift, except for Tiati and Niziro, were wrapped tightly from head to toe in garb for protection against the elements.  

Before departure, Somel bid their mysterious ward to stay on the captain’s deck while the ship set sail for the first time. She didn’t understand why. Tiati climbed the netting on the first sail and gripped tightly from her perch, while Somel took a spot at the bow, eagerly awaiting the launch.

Sand ships worked by skirting dunes, and using momentum, while also employing long bags filled with strong gas running the length of the ship which helped reduce the ship’s weight. The bottom of a sunship was flatter than a boat made for water, though still similar in shape. The bottom of the ship was also oiled and polished well to help it glide smoothly over the sands. 

Lastly, two S’teri, or sand mages, were employed to manually control the boat with magics, using their unique skill set when the winds were too weak, or the sands refused to shift. The S’teri were strange hooded folk, with blue lips stained by magical essences that sustained their magical capabilities. Without S’teri a sunship would be stranded on the sand like any normal ship. 

Depending on the size of a ship only a fraction of the ship’s S’teri were used at one time, so they could be traded when depleted without the ship having to stop regularly. Sand mages could not move the boat on their own, but rather controlled both the wind, and the sands, suggesting the sunship to move by controlling the environment around it. The power of a ship was measured by the skill and the number of the S’teri aboard. 

The two Somel had found he’d acquired as gifts from his brother. One’s name was Kfir N’teret and the other’s Qith Al’kier. Both were highly experienced on the desert seas.

At the last, Somel, when all was ready, shouted to his crew, “We head out to sea this day! Out for Romel, for the open seas, and for glory and fortune!” His crew cheered him on and with that, the sails still bound, the mages worked their magics, and the dock crew released the boat from its ramp. 

The ship slid down, lurching forward. Then as it hit open sand, it lurched back hard, throwing around the crew. A thud cracked the air. A massive wave of sand climbed over the bow of the ship and sprayed over the crew, over Somel.

Some cheered. Some spit out sand and cursed. Somel laughed as hot sand found its way through his robes and across his face. 

The ship crawled across the sand without slowing, pulled and pushed by magic and the slope of the desert floor. Hot wind passed over the ship. The sails were let loose and expanded like thick balloons.

Tiati howled from her spot above. She was having the time of her life. The pirate sailor had finally cast away her fears and chosen to enjoy the voyage. Somel laughed at her excitement, his own building as the sands fell beneath them. 

At the far end of the ship the hooded woman wiped excess sand off of her robes. She understood now why she’d been ordered to stay on the captain’s deck. Ramael came stomping up the steps in a huff. He pulled down the sash covering his face and head. Sand poured out.

He spat out sand too, coughed and cursed, saying to the woman, “I hate sand. I should have stayed in the palace where water is less than wine.” Elantra couldn’t help but smile at his attitude. Even though she was afraid of the journey ahead, even she had to admit it was fun riding the sands. 

Sundrift snaked its way down the desert floor towards the horizon, the sun blinding overhead. Behind was left all the camel riders and the peoples of the cities, Somel’s father, and troubles of his old life while ahead lay the open desert.