Ran' ak' Fairuz -- River Terraforming

Safiya had slept fitfully. Being back in Sakand was perhaps a mistake -- actually, it felt like a big mistake. But she'd gotten up with the morning sun and was ready to go by the time the servant had come to get her. Her dark hair was pulled into a thick braid, and she wore the clothes of the Bedouin tribes out in the desert for two reasons:

a.) they worked better out in the stand, where the sting of the small rocks against your skin could cause rashes and infection, and
b.) she was less likely to get killed by other tribes they came across out there.

She armored up at the armory, and even took on a few potions and things which were put onto a belt just beneath the layer of scarves and cloak she wore. The flying carpet was nothing to her, so she barely blinked, but when she saw the massive work and undertaking that Fairuz was having the Sakand people do in order to bring some river back to the desert...

She had to stop and walk forward, watching the hundreds of bodies toil away beneath the great golden sun.

She looked up and away from the working bodies, turning to look at Cairex who seemed bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "Good morning," she said to him, far more somber as she walked up the gentle slope of the sand dune they had been deposited on. By the time she came up to him, she turned and shielded her eyes from the sun, looking out over the monumental task Fairuz has set for the people of Sakand. "Can you believe this?"

She shook her head, then reached back and brought her bedouin hood up over her head and turned toward the horses. "We had better start moving now," she told Cairex. "This is as cool as its going to get until night falls, and out in the desert, the night is freezing."

She smoothly mounted her horse and took the reins in a practiced hand.

Safi laughed a little at Cairex's joke given at Fairuz's expense. "Agreed."

Mounted, she nodded at Cairex, then kicked her horse into riding. Sand flew up around its hooves as she made for the Open Desert, her heart heavy in her chest for what might be waiting there.

[Exit to Open Desert]

The camp was in full swing. The workers had gotten up before the sun had been too high in the sky, to get their most productive work done while the temperatures were still low. They used majic to move the sand, but there was much to move.

A mile or more wide, they were following the divined bedrock of a river that had once snaked through the Sorala many eons ago, a river that put all other rivers to shame, a river that was said to be the very essence of life where jungles and land had grown rich and fertile around it. Myths and legends state that the river was big enough for naval fleets to have battles, and Fairuz expected nothing less.

There were scouts guarding, with their eyes peeled for the dunes around them. The Sakandi people were not idiots -- they knew well the stories of the bandits and bedouin tribes and monsters that lurked in the Sorala. They were not elite warriors, however. Although prepared and trained, one couldn't put them in the status that paid mercenaries could attend.

The Hummingbird Guard of the city of Sakand were such warriors, of course, but their numbers could not be too populous along the camps on both sides of the river, given they were still greatly needed to protect the city itself. Sakand was not too far from the camp -- about three miles out by now.

Hatim was spotted. How could he not? He was a dark blur against the pale gold background of the desert stands, standing atop a dune with the cerulean sky at his back. He was pointed at, and acknowledged. The workers kept working, however, and the guards began to loosely assemble themselves. Hatim had not yet made any threatening advances, other than to stand.

But the only people that came from the desert were people out for blood.