The desert sun bakes the clay, and the clay shatters and the clay crumbles. Kyp’s first awareness was of an intense heat against his skin. As he opened his eyes, the desert seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. Sand swirling seemed to be the only movement anywhere. He stood, and found that he was in tattered clothing that barely clung to him. His skin was dark from the sun, and his water flask was empty. Death seemed to be just over his shoulder, waiting.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a tent in the distance. It seemed a bedouin tent, finely decorated in scrollwork of silver and gold… or something. He could not make it out yet. He staggered toward the tent, as the sun worked its will upon his body.
He reached the tent and looked at it. The scrollwork was actually drawings and illustrations, hundreds of them. Every bird and animal seemed to be there. Scenes of battle and forest idylls intertwined. Villages and towns and cities stretched across the hides that covered the tent. He pulled back the flap and the scents within nearly caused him to pass out. They were far from unpleasant, yet the permeated him so suddenly that he was overwhelmed.
It was dark inside the tent, dark and cool. He fell to his knees on furs that lined the ground. A voice came from the darkness. “Drink.” A flask of water was placed in his hands. The water felt like it burned his parched throat… it had been so long. “Eat.” A few berries were pressed into his hand. He ate them as best he could, having trouble swallowing them.
His head and his eyes cleared slightly. A veiled woman in white stood before him. “Morrigana?” he asked. The light and musical laughter told him it was not her. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Morrigana standing at the door of the tent, silhouetted against the sun.
The woman in white held a mirror up. “Look,” she commanded.
As he gazed into the mirror, the face looking back at him was not his own, but very like his own.
He stood between the two women, both watching him. He began to feel vaguely uneasy, as if he should be doing something.
He rose to his feet, then staggered. As he tried to keep from falling, his hand touched the hand of the lady in white.
A blinding… something washed over him. What… was it?
He awoke in his own bed, sand still clinging to his body. The ache was gone, and in its place was an emptiness. He was not sure if he wanted it back… or not.
Something nagged at the back of his mind. Something… about the dream. Something he had to do. But what?
Quests
Tome of the Virtues
Twilight Dreams
