That night... 

Upon the banks of the Tagria, the two figures settled in for the night. While Amira the Sorceress intoned her occult mysticism and meditated, Rhaak performed the tasks he was meant for. He hauled the skiff onto the soft shoreline, and went to retrieve whatever wood he could find for their food that night. Before the sun had lowered, he had been ordered to catch some fish, and the slave had managed to spear two stout perch. 

As if by divine providence, Amira had seen where best to land, and once he had captured the fish, he found a smooth stone near the center of this small clearing for him to clean and gut them in. There were trees and brush around, but not nearly enough to be considered a forest. The foliage was merely the life the Tagria sated at its edge. Other than some birds, he heard no animals save the baying of jackals in the distance, for he could see the dunes of the sand as the sun began to lower. 

Within minutes of Rhaak finishing the fish, he began the fire. It gave satisfying crackles as he began to cook the fish. 

Rhaak kept silent, but he wished to speak. There was something about this place that brought a chill to his normally confident spine. He was not certain what it was, and he was surprised his master could not perhaps feel it too.

[hr] 
"A man and a wealthy woman?" the bandit leader mused, temptation glinting upon his face. 

It had been several weeks since the small group of men had left the pilgrim road and settled for raiding near the Tagria. The five thieves had not been lucky for days, only gutting a short, fat merchant, with a purse as empty as his promises. They had not even a camel or horse to their name, and some days they found their blades looked tasty enough to chew upon. But if what Ma'kum said was true, they might have found someone who knew their way around the area.     

"We cannot! They have landed too close to the fabled hills of Vathek" one bandit said, fear in his eyes. He received a dagger to his hand for getting upon the leader's nerves, his scream stifled by his throat being slit. Blood dribbled into the sand as the remaining three stepped back, wary at the sudden deadly display. 

"You fool," the leader, Alra'heer muttered. "Would you have us starve? The hills are bound to have riches! Perhaps these travelers know of a way in." 

"You would have us go into the tomb of Vathek? It is cursed, by Allah!"

"The tomb is filled with the treasure of a Sultan." Alra'heer sneered. He lifted up one of the meager coins they had recieved from the merchant. "Mountains of gold..."

Superstition was evident in their eyes, and yet...yet their hunger and desire for riches weakened their doubts and fears. Before the hour was out, the four thieves stalked the dunes to the north, ever watchful for the fire of the sorceress and the slave. 
[@Penny]