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 urrounded by the sea, Tihamah was actually a desert city that survived only by the deep, freshwater caverns beneath the ever-shifting sands. Tihamah itself was a part of the larger city of Trinsic, but was far from the lichen-filled swamps that lined Trinsic’s northeastern border. Patches of green tufts of grass and low shrubs were the only vegetation in this arid community. Tihamah held a special sort of ancient magic – more artifacts and relics were found around the Tihamah area than any other. It was said that Tihamah was where life began, and it spiraled out from the sands into the more habitable countryside, leaving behind ancient wonders for those who would dig into the history of time.
The desert itself was flat, and the cities that dotted the landscape seemed ancient enough to have been built in the earliest times of human existence. In fact, most of the cities were fairly new, being built of Tihamah’s main export, which is sturdy sandstone blocks – quite heavy but nearly indestructible. Many homes throughout Britannia were made of this popular brick.
One could find many traditional craftsmen in the city, including brass-smiths, bronze-smiths and swordsmiths; potters and weavers and dyers; and makers of incense and other alchemic arts. But Tihamah thrived mainly on its highly held reputation of being the greatest Vendor City in Britannia. Colorful outdoor suqs lined the streets, with many vendors of all kinds peddling their goods in the shade of canvas tents, protected from the daily abuse of heat, wind and sand by the robes they wore and the scarves with which they covered their heads and faces. This is where one would find Mecca, an enormous sandstone shop owned by Markee Dragon, in the merchant province known as Hadjir.
Tired and weary, both in heart and body, the travelers finally arrived at Tihamah. The sandstone walls and pathways were warm to the touch after a full day of soaking in the sun. M’Ladyhawke led them down the winding streets to Mecca. It was a rich shop, and a menagerie of priceless objects was on display in great cases, under glass, in the windows facing the street. The adventurers tethered their horses at the gate and went inside through a giant, welcoming arch. Many marvelous items were within their view, and all of them could be had – for a price, of course. Intense, multi-colored carpets were rolled up along the walls like pillars, waiting patiently to be unfurled at the feet of an interested customer. Brass chests and plates were stacked to the ceiling, and tiny, intricate animal figures danced on the counters.
Young men, dressed in white robes that highlighted their tawny, mustached faces, greeted them with a smile. “Come see, my friends!” they said enticingly from beneath red-checked headdresses that covered their hair and draped elegantly down their backs. “Wonders and beauty for sale here.”
M’Ladyhawke smiled, but shook her head. “Nay, my friend. We’re here to see M’Lord Dragon. Is he about?”
One of the men nodded. “Aiwa, madam.” He turned to a small boy who was sitting idle, and spoke to him sharply in the language native to the south of Britannia: “Fahadh, aynah Markee?” The boy nodded and disappeared up the stairs to the second level of the shop.
Shahrressa and Kedra admired a case full of gold jewelry – ropes and ropes of glittering necklaces and bracelets. The young man behind the counter opened the doors of the case on his side without being asked, and started to flash the shining stuff in front of them encouragingly. “Beautiful gold for beautiful ladies,” he said in a thick accent as the gold piled up in front of them. “You like this, hah?”
Shahrressa had never seen so much gold in one place in her life and looked upon the piles of gold with wonder. Kedra smiled sweetly at the clerk. “Aye, I like this,” she chuckled, sorting casually through the jewelry and picking a few ornate pieces, holding them against her throat or draping them across her ivory wrists, commenting on their quality of workmanship and purity of gold. Shahrressa marveled at the ease with which Kedra bantered and haggled with the storekeeper. She was a lady quite used to wealth!
Just then, heavy footsteps were heard on the marble stairs of the shop and all eyes turned to Markee Dragon.
He was dressed brightly, in sunny yellow robes and a triangular, red feathered cap. Bright blue eyes twinkled in a pleasant face, featuring a grand, dark brown mustache that stretched out past his cheeks into two devilish, turned-up curves above a pointed goatee. His leather sandals slapped against the floor with finesse, and he carried himself very proudly. The merchant spread his arms wide in greeting as he reached M’Ladyhawke.
“M’Ladyhawke!” he grinned as he hugged her heartily. “Back so soon to grace my humble store! But tell me, have you been successful in the field?”
She grinned and held up a blue velvet pouch enticingly. “Aye, M’Lord Dragon. Shall I tell you the tale?”
He clapped his hands gleefully and rubbed them together. “Excellent! Aye, come, all of you!”
He waved the group up the stairs. Kedra and Shahrressa thanked the shopkeeper and left him and his jewelry reluctantly, with a promise to return soon and perhaps take home some of the exquisite gold. The marble staircase opened into an enormous common room. Large pillows were scattered around a wooden table that sat merely inches off the ground. There was no sign of any other furniture anywhere, so the group dropped down onto the pillows and found themselves quite cozy.
Markee clapped his hands twice, and a silent serving woman entered the room. Her face was veiled and her hair covered, so that only her eyes could be seen, and she wore a black, silk robe that trailed behind her, covering even her ankles to the floor. She wordlessly made several trips to the circle, bearing trays of assorted sweet cakes, candied dates and other dried fruit. A brass teapot found its way to the low, square table, accompanied by tiny, matching brass cups. It was a splendid display of the tastes and delights that were a local specialty.
When everyone was comfortable, M’Ladyhawke handed the velvet pouch to Markee Dragon. He opened it with reverent care and laughed in sheer joy when the heavy metal Ankh tumbled out into his hands.
But when he heard the tale of the hard-won relic, his joy subsided. It did not please the merchant to hear that men lost their lives, even for an ancient wonder such as the Ankh would prove to be, and he pledged to do all he could to revive Shogun and Freestander.
Kedra was curious. “But what is the Ankh, Milord Dragon?” she asked.
“Ah, now that is the question indeed,” Markee replied. “What is the Ankh.” He smoothed out his beard as he decided where to start the tale.
“The Ankh is an artifact from the beginning of Lord British’s declaration of the Virtues as Britannian law, and perhaps even older than that. It represents the Virtues as a whole as a symbol of faith in the land, and that faith, of course, is the Virtues themselves.
“The tale is well-known of how Lord British himself is not of this world, but of another world, called Earth. He used a serpent medallion to travel back and forth between the worlds of Earth and Britannia-that-was-once-Sosaria. The Ankh, he used to bring the Avatar, savior of Britannia from the minions of evil.”
Markee smiled as he thought of the nameless Avatar, a hero’s hero not of this world, who saved Britannia from the clutches of the evil wizard Mondain and a plethora of other evils. He looked at the ancient relic in his hand wistfully, and Mobius voiced the question that lingered on everyone’s mind:
“Will it still work?”
Markee coughed. “Well, my dark and silent friend, that is a good question. I have knowledge of magic and artifacts – I make it my business to know of these things. However – “
Suddenly, all of the adventurers shouted in surprise as a column of dark smoke appeared before them. With a flash of lightning, a massive, horned daemon appeared – crimson in color, nostrils flaring, wings spanned to their fullest extent, and accompanied by a foul stench. It clanked on the marble floor with black, cloven hooves; hooves larger even than the draft horse that Orange had ridden, it was that large.
In one swift movement, it snatched the Ankh from Markee’s startled hands. Laughing triumphantly, the beast disappeared in a swirl of smoke and fire, as abruptly as it had arrived.
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