Naya has been traveling for the past day and a half, but there is still no sign of anything other than desert in any direction.

The sun is almost at its highest point in the sky and the heat is unbearable, so the witch takes shelter at the nearest outcropping of rocks she can find. It’s not much more than a boulder in all honesty, but it casts a blessed shade that’s just big enough for the blue eyed girl to hide away in until later on in the evening, when the heat will hopefully be less sweltering. Before she sits down, Naya kicks at the boulder with her boot clad foot and the vibrations send a night adder slithering out from its hiding spot, hissing and puffing angrily at her for daring to disturb him. “Go on,” Naya grumbles, waiting for the tiny beast to get it out of his system and move on to a less inhabited location. After a moment or two the snake deflates when he realizes she doesn’t mean him any harm and decides to retreat, winding a path through the scorching sands and leaving the outcropping blissfully reptile free.

Naya drops her satchel and pulls her green traveling cloak off, spreading it over the scalding earth before she sits down with her back against the bedrock. Had the youth realized she’d be traversing the wastelands when she had gotten dressed yesterday morning she would have donned more substantial clothing, but as it were she only wore a dress she had patched together with the left over fabric scraps. It was flimsy and small and completely useless against the unforgiving extremes. It frustrated the girl so much that if it weren’t counterproductive to her survival, Naya would have shucked the damn thing already and set it on fire.

But the brunette had no way of knowing of what lay ahead of her when she had gotten ready that morning, so she was strikingly unprepared. The only things she had in her bag were her grimoire, the strawberry jam Meng had given her after their visit, and a few yarrow stalks she’d found growing in a meadow not far from her tree. Naya hadn’t brought any water at all, since it wasn’t more than an hour walk to get to her friend’s farm, and she was beginning to feel the effects. The witch’s head was pounding to the point that it was almost blinding and her lips were chapped and raw with dehydration. At least she had grabbed her cloak on the way out, otherwise her pale skin would have burnt and blistered under this oppressive sun.

There is a rustling above her and powerful burst of wind sends her short hair flying in every direction. Naya turns to look up and strains her eyes against the sun to see that a hawk has landed on the top of the outcropping and is staring back at her, turning its great feathered head back and forth like it’s trying to figure out what to make of her. “Hello little love,” she greets, her normally soft voice rough from disuse and lack of water as she raises a brow at the curious creature. This one has been following her for the past couple of hours, which Naya thinks is odd behavior, but she can’t be sure since she hasn’t had much dealings with hawks in the past.

“Your dinner went that way,” she tells it, nodding in the direction the night adder went. The bird remains unearthly still and continues to peer down at her, so Naya turns back around to give it its peace. The witch doesn’t want to disturb the creature, since she’ll be dead in a little while if she doesn’t find water or the end of this desert, and if it keeps following her it can at least peck out her eyes for nutrition so her death won’t be a complete waste.

---

Amon breathed slowly, his mortal body perfectly still in Ormuzhd's saddle. He continued to peer at the figure sat next to the rock through Kalophis' eyes, the hawk tilted its head at Amon's request before he returned his senses to his own body. As he returned his mind to his own body he inhaled sharply, he recited arcane mantras in his head ensuring that he'd regained full control of his body once more.

He looked around him, he couldn't see any figures nearby, and Ormuzhd seemed contented below him. In fact, the Giant Salamander had settled itself in the sand and nodded off. 'Come my friend' he said waking Ormuzhd 'We have found something' the Giant Salamander steadily got to its feet its long tongue darting out and scenting the air as it stood. With a telepathic direction from Amon, Ormuzhd went skittering across the sand at great speed. Amon clung onto the reigns as his cloak and loose fitting robes flowed around him in the mixture of desert sand and wind.

He wondered quite what he'd found as he rode towards the rock Kalophis was perched on. Clearly another refugee, but from where he couldn't ascertain, her style of dress seemed feral in nature, perhaps a northerner then? His lack of geographical knowledge denied him any further intuitive guesses, but he was contented with what little he knew for now.

As he came skittering over a dune the rock came into view, as he drew closer he drew Ra'kes from its sheath at his side, holding the reigns in his off hand only. As he drew closer Kalophis cawed before leaping from his perch and flying toward Amon and Ormuhzd who by now had slowed down significantly. Amon instructed Ormuzhd to continue lumbering towards the rock, taking his hand off the reigns and letting Kalophis settle in on his hand.

He rounded the rock and saw a tired and emaciated mage sat in the meagre shade provided by the rock, he noted her cracked dry lips and the way she seemed to have slumped against the rock. He sheathed Ra'kes and reached down with his free hand, unslinging a canteen and throwing it down next to her. He nodded to the canteen before getting off of Ormuzhd's back, the Giant Salamander settling down into the sand once more. Kalophis continued to sit on Amon's hand the hawk cocking its head from side to side, peering at the mage it had found before looking back to Amon.

'Drink' said Amon his deep voice and thick accent necessitating that he talk slowly, 'I know you have questions but drink first then talk'. After he had finished speaking he sat cross legged on the ground, Khalophis moved and sat on his shoulder and he placed his hands on his knees as though he was going to start meditating.

The hawk give a cry and flaps his wings, abandoning her in pursuit of more lucrative meal endeavors, Naya decides. The girl lets out a ragged breath and flits her eyes closed, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek against them, trying not to think of how her tree had screeched when it was first set ablaze. The desert is silent for a moment or two longer, before Naya picks out the sound of something being dragged through the sand coming her way.

"Have you come back to reclaim your spot, little devil?" She asks with a tiny grin, cracking one eye open and expecting to see the night adder returning, only to be greeted by the sight of a mighty, lumbering lizard rounding the outcropping with a rider on its back. Naya straightens up instantly, her hand flying towards her boot to grab the hilt of her dagger and loose it from its sheath. The witch snarls at them, all teeth, but the rider pays her no mind, sheathing his weapon and tossing something at her. A canteen lands in the sands by her feet, the sound of its contents sloshing about and making the pale girl's mouth water reflexively.

"Drink," he tells her in a rumbling drawl after he has dismounted, the cadence of his voice marked by an accent that she had never hear before. "I know you have questions but drink first then talk," the stranger finishes, sitting cross legged in front of her, the same hawk from earlier moving to perch on his shoulder. Naya feels a pang of betrayal as she realizes the bird led this man right to her and she scrambles to her feet, wanting to be in a better position should she have to defend herself. She stares down at him for a moment, trying to discern some of his features, but his clothing masks his appearance almost completely.

After a moment of terse silence between them, Naya take her foot and drags the canteen closer, bending down and snatching it up briskly without ever taking her eyes off of the man creature. The witch shoulders the container and brings her dagger to her own hand, slicing through the skin of her palm with practiced ease before dragging the flat of the blade through the blood. The brunette then unscrews the canteen one handed and pours a small amount of water over the bloodied weapon, her eyes leaving the stranger just long enough to see if there is a reaction.

Her blood remains dormant so Naya decides that it probably isn't poisoned or hexed in any sort of way and brings it to her lips, taking a few greedy pulls of the water while she flicks her eyes back over to the stranger. It's fantastic, to finally have something to drink after so long in this heat, but the brunette still doesn't let her guard down.

"Thank you," Naya says begrudgingly after she downs half of it, recapping the container and chunking it back at him so that it lands in his lap. The witch crouches down and fishes through her bag, pulling out the strawberry jam and rolling it towards him as well. "Take it and go," she insists, her voice much smoother now that she is better hydrated.

Amon didn't move as the canteen flew from the woman's hands striking him in the chest and falling in his lap. The metal of the canteen caused the mail armour beneath his flowing robes to clink ever so slightly. He noted the dagger in the woman's hand, the small basic blade was no threat to him, nor was a half emaciated woman wandering the deserts.

After a short moment and quick ritual the woman began gulping down the water that he'd offered her, she gulped it down rather rapidly he thought, clearly not one accustomed to the deserts.

'Thank you' said the unknown woman.

Then she did something he didn't expect, she rolled a glass jar containing jam towards him. It bumped into his crossed legs. 'Take it and go' she remarked, he looked at it puzzled for a moment before getting up and calling Khalophis to his hand. He took up his canteen but left the jam at his feet, Khalophis now pruning his feathers sat on his hand.

'I shan't be going anywhere unless you answer my questions first, you are mage-kind that much is obvious. But from where do you hail, and what did you intend wandering these deserts?' Amon spoke calmly and with a natural authority, his speech was still slow his accent evident but lending a note of inquisitive sincerity to his words.

The man pulled himself up to his full height, the hawk moving to resettle itself onto his hand again; cleaning its feathers like this was an everyday occurrence for the two of them. It could very well have been, for all Naya knew. The girl’s fine features twisted into a scowl when she saw that he’d left the jam abandoned in the dirt, affronted by his blatant refusal of it. “I shan't be going anywhere unless you answer my questions first; you are mage-kind that much is obvious. But from where do you hail, and what did you intend wandering these deserts?” The stranger asked, his voice even without a trace of doubt in it.

“I do not know what this word, ‘mage-kind’ means,” Naya grumbled, very obviously irritated by his questioning. “I come from there,” she tells him, stretching out her arm and pointing north with her dagger, “…and I’m going that way,” the witch finishes vaguely, moving her arm and weapon so they are both now pointing south. “The rest is my business. Now leave me be. Take the jar with you, I won’t be owing you anything else,” the girl demands, giving him a pointed look before kneeling and putting her dagger away in her boot. She digs through her satchel again and this time retrieves a couple of handfuls of yarrow leaves, tearing them up and rubbing them together in her hands. Typically the plant was used to cure fevers and swelling, along with being used in minor warding spells, but Naya knew it would help keep infection at bay as well.

With little ceremony, the witch reached down and tore a swatch of fabric free from the hem of her dress, wrapping it around the small wound and tying it tightly. Normally the brunette wouldn’t have worried about binding such a small cut, but with the sand blowing wildly out here, she had to take extra precautions to keep it clean. “Why are you still here?” she asks him, raising a brow at the man creature. He had been nothing but kind to her, but his presence made her uneasy. “Get back up on your friend and go,” she demands again, nodding towards the salamander who was bedded down and waiting patiently for its master’s return. Naya had never seen anything like it before, the biggest lizard that called her forest home was the occasional iguana, so this creature was truly something to behold. ’It’s beautiful,’ she thought to herself, her eyes passing over the salamander’s rough looking scales before returning her gaze back to the heavily cloaked man.

Amon waited silently as the woman set about herself, eventually she started to pack her belongings before glaring at him and inquiring 'Why are you still here?'

At this Amon cocks his head, almost an imitation of Kalophis. He crouches down picking up the jam still at his feet and opens the top, raising it to his face so he can smell the aroma, it smelt sweet, almost sickly to him. Then again he was more used to rough bread and spices than he was sweet preserves. He turned without answering the woman's question and placed a hand on Ozmuzhd large slopping brow, the colossal lizard raised his head opening his eyes lazily to regard Amon. Amon held the jar up in front of Ormuzhd, the lizard's huge tongue darted out scenting the air. Then Amon placed the jar down in the sand in front of Ormuzhd, the lizards tongue darted out and he started dipping the tip of his long tongue into the preserve, clearly enjoying the sweet taste.

Amon turned, 'This is Ormuzhd, a giant salamander he has served me faithfully for many years. From what I can tell you are familiar with smaller relatives of his no? Your mind says as much even if you do not give the words voice. But I shall ask you again, from where do you hail, give me a name' Amon paused, his voice then took on a harsh and slightly more aggressive tone, his hand resting on the hilt of Ra'kes, 'And what do you intend in this desert?'

The stranger finally scoops up the jar and unscrews it, bringing it to his face to give it a quick sniff. This didn’t bother Naya at all; she would have actually thought him stupid to accept any sort of food stuffs without checking it for poisons first. He then turns and lays a hand against the great beast’s head, rousing it from its catnap, before setting the jam down and offering it to the lizard. The salamander's tongue darted out a few times before the beast dipped it into the strawberry preserve and the corners of her lips turned up into a crooked half smile. 'I'm glad it's to your likening, friend,' Naya muses before turning her blue eyes back towards the man creature.

"This is Ormuzhd, a giant salamander he has served me faithfully for many years," he tells her and Naya's face scrunches up as she mouths, 'Ormuzhd' clearly stumbling over the strange sounding name. "From what I can tell you are familiar with smaller relatives of his no? Your mind says as much even if you do not give the words voice," the stranger continues in his deep drawl and now Naya is really confused. 'This man beast has been in the sun too long,' she decides. 'He speaks nonsense.'

"But I shall ask you again, from where do you hail, give me a name," the dessert dweller punctuates this statement by laying his hand on the hilt of his blade, his voice turning hard, "And what do you intend in this desert?"

"It's none of your business," the witch growls out again, angered by the obvious threat. Naya wasn't some simpering girl who would be so easily intimidated by a threat of violence and she refused to give him the name of her forest. If he was like the others and trying to wipe out all witches, she didn't want to be the one to lead him to her coven. Or Meng. Naya thought of her friend's weathered face and twinkling amber eyes and she knew that she would do whatever it took to keep this man from her. The brunette picks up her cloak and shakes the sand from it before pulling it back on.

"Get back up on Ormoozhdt," she pauses to wince at how badly she pronounced the salamander's name, "take your bird and leave. I am thankful for the water but I gave you the jam and your friend has already cleaned the jar, so I owe you no debt. Go and leave me in peace."

Amon actively stops himself from laughing at the woman's attempts to pronounce Ormuzhds' name. But smiles as she talks at ease with the great beast, most foreigners didn't, many found the Giant Salamanders far too alien to be comfortable around.

'It's none of your business' the woman growls in response to his question, but he remains silent a moment longer as she gets to her feet. Before saying to Amon "Get back up on Ormoozhdt, take your bird and leave. I am thankful for the water but I gave you the jam and your friend has already cleaned the jar, so I owe you no debt. Go and leave me in peace.'

These remarks combined with what Amon's thought sense had heard … been in the sun too long… nonsense… inclined him to act.

Stepping clear of Ormuzhd and ordering Kalophis with a thought to perch upon the Salamanders back. Amon draws Ra'Kes from its place at his side, he swings the blade through the air demonstrating the speed and precision of the blade, before flames suddenly erupt from the weapon sheathing it in coruscating flames.

Before the woman can react Amon reaches out with his powers and talks directly to her mind. 'I have not been out in the sun too long, and you are most certainly not an authority on such matters. As for your woodland glenn I had preferred that you simply tell me. Now I suggest you talk or I shall be forced to take the information from you'. With that Amon pulls back into his own physical form and talks normally once more.

'I am Amon, Sorcerer Knight of the City of White Marble, I am bound to protect all of those mage-kind and otherwise who seek shelter and wisdom here. In order to pursue this duty I must know of your origin and of your intent, if you refuse to answer my questions then I will have no choice but to leave you in this desert to die.' He pauses to appraise her for a moment 'I would give you another day in this heat, and as you lack swifter means of transportation and all forms of navigation you must either accept my help or approve your own demise' he finishes the proclamation his sword still ablaze, in his free hand lightning begins to crackle the arcs dancing between his fingertips.

The stranger steps towards her and draws his weapon, swinging it through the air in a menacing arc, and the hairs on the back of Naya’s neck start to stand on end. The brunette reaches into her boot to retrieve her dagger again, but stops short when his blade bursts into flame. Before she can process it, the smooth baritone of his voice is in her head, murmuring, “I have not been out in the sun too long, and you are most certainly not an authority on such matters. As for your woodland glen I had preferred that you simply tell me. Now I suggest you talk or I shall be forced to take the information from you.”

He pulls free of her mind and begins to physically speak again, but his presence in her head has left her reeling and a little sick to her stomach. Naya sways slightly and briefly worries that she is going to do something humiliating like swoon, but she manages to keep her footing, thank the Gods. When she can focus better the stranger, 'Amon,' her mind supplies helpfully, now has a ball of lightning cackling in his off hand and everything finally clicks into place for her.

'Oh,' she thinks numbly, blinking her almond shaped eyes as she appraises him with new understanding. 'He's a witch. Like me.'

"I'm sorry," Naya apologized, rising from her crouch and leaving her weapon sheathed. "I didn't know you were blood of my blood," she confessed, pressing the index and middle finger of her right hand to her mouth before moving them down to rest over her heart. It was an old gesture used between witches that basically meant, 'I see you'. When the movement was finished the brunette held up both of her hands to show him that she meant him no harm, which Naya thought was obvious since the punishment for hurting a fellow witch was death by fire, but Amon seemed on edge, so she kept them up.

"I am Naya. I don't have a name for my woods other than home, but the human beasts call it The Semarian Forest," she informs him, his aggressive display of magic making her feel more at ease rather than frightened. "I am of the Belladonna tribe, though I have not been a part of any coven since I was a girl. I didn't want to tell you because I thought you were human and might try to hurt them. Forgive me, I didn't know that there were any male witches," she admits, flashing him a sheepish smile. Normally the tribe mothers would couple with a human male whenever they felt the urge to continue their line and then resulting child of the union was always female.

Amon smiled behind his shroud, glad that Naya was willing to talk. He preferred talking to needless violence, but he wouldn't have hesitated to use his powers had it been necessary. The lightning in his off hand dissipates, the crackling arcs slowly fading. He swings Ra'Kes in a graceful arc as though he is going to flick the fire off of the blade, but instead the fire dissipates rising into the air above the blade before vanishing.

He listens to the woman's words, and notes the salute she makes pressing two fingers to her lips before moving them to rest over her heart. He replies in kind taking his right hand balling it into a fist and placing it over his heart bowing his head, before returning to stand as before.

He continues to listen as Naya explains who she is and where she is from, Amon doesn't know the place but he recognises a few words: coven, witch, Belladonna. He thinks back to where he read those words, in his mind he pictures an old ledger long ensconced in dust with a cracked leather cover.

He returned his full focus to Naya as she remarked 'I didn't want to tell you because I thought you were human and might try to hurt them. Forgive me, I didn't know that there were any male witches'.

Amon walks over to Ormuzhd the salamander having finished the jam has rested his head on the ground again the delicate glass jar resting between his huge feet. Amon picks up the jar, before turning back to Anya to reply 'Not all those without the gift of mage-blood wish to hurt mage-kind, but you are right to be cautious. As for this witch term you use, I believe the male alternative is warlock?' Amon spoke the words witch and warlock slower than the rest of his sentence, making it quite obvious he'd only seen the words written down before. 'If you are seeking shelter then you can come with me, I will take you to the city and the Council will be able to help you. They are always willing to help fellow mage-kind when they can, although they will refer to you as a sorceress not as witch, it is merely our way'.

With that Amon turned once more and walked over to Ormuzhd, he then clambered onto the lizards back and settle himself in the front half of the saddle. He ran one hand down Kalophis back stroking the feathers softly, the hawk cawed once and took to the skies. Amon still sat in the saddle turned to look at Naya still stood in the shade of the boulder he'd found her under. Then he reached down, he opened a pack attached to the side of Ormuzhd's saddle and pulled out a long cloth hood and shroud, the material was light and was dyed grey. 'Here' he threw it to Naya 'You will need this if you're to ride with me, else you'll be as much sand as flesh and blood by the time we reach the city.'

"Wa--warlock," Naya parroted, stumbling over the new word a little as she repeated it back to Amon. She sounded just as hesitant about it as he did, so she assumed he didn't use the word much either. 'What a strange witc--warlock,' she mused, lowering her hands now that other seemed more at ease with her.

“If you are seeking shelter then you can come with me, I will take you to the city and the Council will be able to help you. They are always willing to help fellow mage-kind when they can, although they will refer to you as a sorceress not as witch, it is merely our way,” Amon informs before climbing back up onto Ormuzhd and sifting through his saddlebag, producing another odd looking cloak that was much like his own and tossing it to her. The witch catches it and stares down at it, running a thumb over the material to better access it. The man tells her to put it on and after a moment of apprehension she relents, pulling the strange garment on with little grace. It covers her face so that only her eyes are visible and Naya shifts uncomfortably, having never been so clothed in her entire life. The brunette wants to pull it off the very second she has it on, but resists the urge so she doesn’t offend Amon.

“Is the council your coven?” Naya asks curiously, approaching Ormuzhd and laying her hand against its side delicately, before flicking her eyes up to meet Amon’s. She had never heard a witch call their home a city, since they mostly considered that a human term. After a moment or two longer Naya averts her gaze and swallows nervously before admitting, “I’ve never ridden an animal before. How am I supposed to get on?”

Amon watches Naya pull the garment on, as one of his spares it is far too big for her and doesn't sit properly but he knows it will do its job well enough. Having pulled the hood and shroud on Naya asks 'Is the council your coven?', an odd question he thought to himself. The idea of a coven seemed quite esoteric to him, brining to mind images of secreted and hidden mages trying to hide from their pursuers. He doesn't answer as she steps towards Ormuzhd laying a hand on the huge lizard before looking up at him, 'I've never ridden an animal before. How am I supposed to get on?' she inquires.

Amon smiles behind his own hood and shroud, he points to a stirrup on the side of Ormuzhd's saddle. 'I will offer you my hand, put your right foot in the stirrup and step up, then put your left leg over the other side. Then you best hold on tightly to me else you'll likely fall off at quite some speed' he replied.

He offered his hand to Naya, waiting for her to do as he instructed.

Naya takes his hand to steady herself and puts her foot in the stirrup as instructed and swings a leg over with little grace, but at least she doesn’t make a total fool of herself and do something like face plant. Once she’s on top of Ormuzhd she hesitantly goes to wrap her arms around his torso, stopping when she feels the roughness of his belly under the robes. “Is that a spell?” she questions, before letting her curiosity get the better of her and briskly sticking an arm through the billowing sleeve of his robe, reaching in to palpate his chest and stomach.

Naya had never been this close to a man before, but she had been certain that they had at least the same sort of skin, didn’t they? Instead of feeling flesh, this warlock was covered in some sort of metal, looped together like tiny chains. “Why are you wearing a fence, my friend?” the brunette asks, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration as she felt around until she found the neck opening of this unusual under shirt. Dipping her hand beneath this garment as well, she finally found his skin and patted at it searchingly.

“Are there so few warlocks in your city that you have to hide yourself from the witches, so they don’t force themselves on you?” She continues, her tongue peeking out of her mouth in concentration. Amon was firm and muscled everywhere and Naya pinched at his belly, humming appraising when she found very little fat there. “Or are you ashamed of yourself? There is no need to feel embarrassed, blood of my blood, you have excellent skin,” she tells him, patting at his stomach reassuringly.

Amon simply freezes as Naya runs her hands over him, he scowls behind his shroud and hood but makes no comment, at least until Naya finishes talking.

'Take, your, hands out of there' Amon's words takes on a very authoritative tone and he seemed even more serious than before. 'The fence as you put it, is called ringmail. It is armour, clothing designed to stop the wearer being injured in battle, now please take your hand away. I will warn you now, if you do things like that in the city you shan't be there long'.

"Ringmail?" She parrots back, taking her hand out of his strange metal small clothes but keeping them in his robe, picking at the odd garment and giving it a small shake. It clangs together melodically and Naya gives a quiet chuckle at the sound. "I have seen creatures called ,'Ringtails' in my forest, but they're not anything like this. Does it stop hexes?" She queries, eyebrow raised as she finally pulled her hand free.

The witch wraps her lithe arms back around his waist, pressing her front tightly against his back. The expanse of him is wide and hard against her chest as she drapes herself over him, hooking her chin over his shoulder so her face was was right up against the side of his. "Is your coven so prudish that they don't allow for touching between witches and warlocks?" She continues her questioning, her brow wrinkling in genuine confusion.

"...how do you make your children then? I've never had a man before, but I was told by the tribe mothers that it is a pleasurable experience. Are they wrong?" She asks, turning her face into his neck and inhaling, sniffing at him curiously. He smells of sweat, sand, and some sort of spice she cannot place, but she finds herself enjoying it some much that she inhales again, exhaling softly across his skin. "Is there some sort of spell your 'Mage-Kind' use to conceive your babies? Will you teach it me?" Naya implores, peering up through her shroud to look at him.

Amon laughs looking Naya in the eyes as she bombards him with questions. He turns from her and takes hold of Ormuzhd's reigns Naya clinging on tightly, her slight frame pressed against him and he sets off, back towards the city at a slow pace so that he might answer her questions.

'Indeed Ringmail, or Lorica Hamata in the High Gothic tongue' he begins 'It is designed to protect warriors in battle from slashes and strikes with smaller blunt weapons. If you slashed my belly with your little dagger you'd do me no harm the Ringmail would stop the blade from cutting me. As for Hexes some Ringmail can, if you work magic into it, the Ringmail I wear protects me from magical attacks. However, the protection isn't absolute a strong enough spell could still do me some damage'.

He pauses for a moment looking back at the inquisitive woman her head still perched on his shoulder. Her bright blue eyes shone back at him from behind her shroud, they reminded him of still water at the bottom of marble pools. The colour contrasting brightly against her skin.

He shook himself free of his thoughts as Ormuzhd loped his way down a steep dune. Amon stiffened in the saddle keeping himself and Naya from falling out of the saddle, once again he felt her slight frame press against him and her arms seemed to tighten around him as they picked up speed towards the bottom of the dune.

'Well know that's finished' he remarked 'I shall answer your next set of questions'. He paused once more taking a deep breath before speaking, his tone was softer now, much kinder, the authority was still there, but it didn't lend the same harsh edge to his speech. 'We don't have covens in the traditional sense. Unlike everywhere else in the world mage-kind don't live hidden away in the Kingdom of White Marble. We live freely and openly in our towns and villages, those who are not mage-kind live alongside us in peace, we help one another. As for witches and warlocks touching one another, we allow it of course, but usually it happens in private, in the chambers of the witch and warlock in question. Well that's the case if things are very intimate anyway, holding hands and the like isn't frowned upon, in high society it is encouraged'.

At this point Amon looked around them. Ormuzhd was still loping at a relatively slow pace across the sands and the horizon was a blurred haze, the environment warped by the heat. Seeing nothing Amon rode on and resumed answering Naya's questions.

'As for having children, that's a very private matter indeed. Witches and Warlocks as you know them, or as we'd call them Sorcerers and Sorceresses, choose a partner. Someone they trust, care about and love. If they think they have found the right partner then they will undergo a binding, a ritual in which the two swear themselves to one another for the rest of their days. Following this, the two will live together and beget children in the…' he pauses for a moment hardly believing he has to explain such things 'In the usual manner, no spells or anything'.

Amon reaches down and takes out a canteen once more offering it to Naya. 'Here, drink you'll need it if you're not used to this heat as I am. Whilst you're drinking I will explain what will happen when we arrive' Amon states a tad more confidently, glad to no longer be explaining such intimate things to a total stranger.

'When we arrive we will head for the Knights' stables. There I shall put Ormuzhd in his stable, and then you and I shall head to the Council chambers. On our way there, stay close to me and don't speak to anyone, let me do the talking for now, if you have questions make note of them and you can ask me later' he pauses, still holding the canteen in one hand he shakes it. 'Please take this' he remarks 'You'll need it more than me. Now when we get to the Council chambers I will talk to one of the Wardens, they will work out where you will live and so on, until you get yourself settled. Following that, it should be time for lunch, then you can ask any questions you have'.

As Amon finishes answering her question about the ringmail, Ormuzhd starts down a particularly steep sand dune and Naya shrieks in terror, because it feels like she's going to fly right off the front of the beast. Amon is unyielding though, not budging an inch as they tilt forward at a drastic incline, her hands clutching at him in a vice grip. Once they've conquered the hill the great salamander slows down, much to the witch's relief. "Thank you, my friend," the brunette exhales quietly, loosening her grasp on the other man as they return to a less horrifying speed and acclivity.

The man turns his head a little so she can hear him, explaining in his rumbling baritone, "We don't have covens in the traditional sense. Unlike everywhere else in the world mage-kind don't live hidden.......well that's the case if things are very intimate anyway, holding hands and the like isn't frowned upon, in high society it is encouraged'.

"I think you misunderstand the word, 'coven'," she tells him, squinting against the brightness of the sun and the sand that whips past them. "It means, um, how do you say...," Naya trails of, her brow wrinkling in concentration. "...fa-family?" Naya continues, finally getting the word out. "Yes, family. I was born to the Belladonna tribe, but then I left them when my magic failed to come to me. They are still my coven though, even though I have not seen them in many years," She clarifies, letting her eyes slide close against the memories. "I had a human friend in my forest. She and I were a coven, or a family as they call it," the witch finishes, her voice going soft as she speaks about Meng and their little coven of two.

"As for having children, that's a very private matter indeed......In the usual manner, no spells or anything."

"That's strange," Naya admits after a moment, trying to wrap her head around the concept of binding herself to someone, a man no less, forever. "Witches don't do that either. Love is for your coven. When we want to have our babies, we just pick the strongest, most intelligent human man creature we can find and bed him," she tells him, blinking an eye open cautiously before shutting it just as quickly to keep the dust at bay. If she was being honest with herself, the witch was a little disappointed that there wasn't a spell for knitting a baby together in a woman's belly. It would have been fun to add it to her grimoire. "Do you have a bond-mate then, Amon?"

He says something she can't make out over the wind, but then goes on to explain what will happen when the get to this City of White Marble. "Please take this," she finally hears him, cracking open her eyes to see that he's offering her the water again. "You'll need it more than me." Naya takes it and unscrews the top, taking a drink from it as carefully as possible so she doesn't spill any. Ormuzhd's lopping gait makes it harder than she had expected, but the brunette manages to not lose a single drop.

"Thank you," Naya sighs, pressing the canteen back into his grasp. "Are there trees in your hom--erm--city?" she asks, closing her eyes again and tucking her face behind his back, using his shoulder as a shield against the sand.

Just as before Amon waits for Naya to ask all her questions before responding to them, a peculiarity of speech to her he thought, but the norm to those used to high culture.

'Ahh, you view coven as family…' he paused for a moment having said this, running the thought through his mind. 'In the library of the Pesegae I read an old tome on mage-kind of foreign lands, it described covens as secret gatherings. It did not make mention of any familial ties between coven-kin. For us in the city we have families, usually they consist of a bonded Sorcerer and Sorceress and their children. There are exceptions though, for example we Pesegae Knights are all family, not necessarily by blood, but by purpose. The Luminarks are the same, they have a common purpose and swear themselves to one another just like we Knights do.' He stopped talking as Ormuzhd came to the crest of dune that had a slight but steady incline.

Amon looked around him, noticing a trio of figures off in the distance, he turned Ormuzhd to face them and set off, maintaining the same pace as before so he could answer a few more of Naya's questions.

'As for having a bond mate, no I do not. Knights such as myself aren't permitted to take a bond mate until we have proven ourselves worthy. Those Knights that hold the title Corvidae, Raptora, Athenaen, Pavoni or Pyrae are allowed, but regular Knights such as myself are not. If I wish to attain one of those titles then I must prove myself in battle or study and there has yet to be a chance to do so. As for the trees of course there are, we have immense gardens and the roads are lined with plants and fountains to relieve the worst of the heat.'

As he finished speaking he looked out at the horizon again, he observed the three figures. Now that he was closer he could see that they were carrying spears, he drew Ra'Kes from its place at his side, holding the reigns in his other hand. He turned to his shoulder to see that Naya has pressed herself in behind his shoulder to shield herself from the sand and the wind. 'Trouble up ahead, we're going to go fast, hold onto me and when we stop stay on Ormuzhd whatever happens don't intervene just stay on Ormuzhd' he instructed.

Not waiting for a response he snapped Ormuzhd's reigns sharply and they shot forward at great speed. Ormuzhd skittered across the sand a cloud billowing up behind him as he shot forward, Amon leant forward as they shot forward holding Ra'Kes close against his leg. After a couple of minutes they arrived at the three figures, Ormuzhd slowed down as he closed in on the figures and Amon appraised each one of them.

They wore dirty leather armour with dirty bedraggled robes draped over the top, they each had backpacks and carried a long bladed spear in their right hands. One of the figures wore a hood with a scarlet band tied around the top, it was evident that he was the leader of the men.

'Greetings wanderers' called Amon as Ormuzhd loped closer, Ra'Kes was tightly gripped in his hand and could be seen by the three men. As he called out the figure with the scarlet band turned to face him.

Naya was relieved to hear that there would be trees in this new place, but slightly confused about the concept of someone preventing someone else from taking a bond mate. 'What funny witches,' she thought to herself, grinning under her shroud. They had so many odd customs and rules, like where it was okay to touch someone or when it was alright to bind yourself to another, and on top of it all they picked this wasteland to make their home. The brunette didn't understand it at all, but she had to admit that she was curious about their culture.

The sound of Amon pulling his weapon free jolts the witch from her thoughts, and then the sorcerer tells her, "Trouble up ahead, we're going to go fast, hold onto me and when we stop stay on Ormuzhd whatever happens don't intervene just stay on Ormuzhd." He warns right before Ormuzhd picks up his pace, carrying them at a breakneck speed towards some strangers in the distance.

Naya doesn't take well to being told what to do, but she likes this strange desert warlock, so she concedes without much of a fight. "Alright, friend, I will stay on Ormuzhdt," she agrees, stumbling over the salamander's name a little less than earlier, but still adding an unnecessary 't' sound to the end of it. At this alarming new speed of travel they make it to the group in no time, and Naya fights hard not to reach for the dagger stowed away in her boot. They looked like human creatures, and while Amon said some could be trusted, Naya was generally leery of any of them who weren't Meng.

"Greetings wanderers," her friend calls out, catching the attention of the scarlet hooded man. Naya's grip tightens around Amon even though Ormunzhd has come to a complete stop now. The witch catches sight of the hawk from earlier circling above them as this stranger takes them in.

Naya feels a wave of protectiveness wash over her, which is silly since she hadn't know Amon for very long at all. But he seemed to know so many different things and the brunette wanted to learn as much as he could teach her about this strange world outside her forest. But she had told the other that she would just stay in the saddle so instead of reaching for her blade she settles on glaring at the newcomers, warning them not to try anything funny with her eyes.

Amon moves Naya's arms from his waist and dismounts, jumping off of Ozrmuzhd sword in hand. The figure with the Scarlet band replies then from behind a shroud 'Greetings friend, what do you seek all the way out here?' the voice was harsh and rather gruff, it reminded Amon of the few other northerners he'd met.

Before he replied Amon placed himself between Ormuzhd and Naya and the three figures. Whilst focussing on the central figure he noticed that the other two were starting to circle and he began to feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. 'Me' he replied surprisingly nonchalant considering the circumstances 'I'm looking for an oases, perhaps you…'.

Amon didn't finish his sentence as one of the men in brown robes thrust his spear towards him, Amon dodged swinging Ra'Kes round to bat the blade aside. Then the other two figures attacked him their spears darted forward to join their companions and Amon jumped back to avoid the tips of the blades.

Ra'Kes burst into flames the sword glowing fiercely the fire spreading to sheath Amon's fist. 'Death to the unclean!' cried the figure with the red band and he launched himself at Amon his spear swinging around him in a blur of wood and metal. Ra'Kes came up to meet it, the blade slicing through the haft of the spear and leaving it smouldering where it had been cut. Another one of the figures jabbed low almost catching Amon's leg with the tip of his spear, Amon stepped forward in close against his opponent. Placing his hand against the man's chest his palm crackled with lightning before Amon pushed the figure back. The man hit the ground convulsing as his nervous system overloaded. That was when the final opponent struck Amon's arm, the blow was mitigated by Amon's ringmail but the blow knocked him off balance. Amon rolled as he stood he swung Ra'Kes from down by his side aiming the end of his slash at the man's neck. The blow struck true and arterial blood surged from the cut the man falling dead in the sand.

'ARRGHH' came a yell from behind Amon, the man he'd disarmed the one with the Red band ducked low trying to get under Amon's guard he slashed at him with a dagger. Amon punched down with his free hand, knocking the figure to the ground as he did so. The man fell face down in the sand, before he could recover Amon stood on his wrist and swung Ra'Kes separating the mans hand at the wrist. He screamed in agony swallowing a mouthful of sand in the process. Amon kicked him in the back, knocking him down into the sand once more.

'I am Amon'hotep Sorcerer Knight of the Sands! Know this when you meet your gods, tell them it was I who sent you to them!' he proclaimed, he wrested his free palm against the back of the mans head, closing his eyes for a moment. The man struggled for a moment and then dropped to the ground limp an unmoving.

Amon flicked Ra'Kes, the fire flared for a moment before dissipating as before The blade was pristine despite having been covered in blood moments before. Amon knelt he planted his sword in the sand one hand resting on the hilt, the other he closed in a fist and placed over his heart. He began to recite a prayer under his breath, before standing to look at Naya.