Was Merlin in the desert? He thought about. Yes, he was in the desert. Blaise had once taught him geography. From what Merlin remembered, he had recently passed the Mediterranean sea, and had crossed over into Africa. He was walking across what he thought was Egypt, and at the time he had had to cross a river, his mind had gone blank, and he had crossed the river and left it, thinking he would run into another in an hour or two. He had forgotten the river must be the Nile, the only water source any human being with no supplies could get necessary hydration from. Merlin was a wizard though, and that did a little to help him along his way.
Now Merlin was crossing the wide and endless expanse of what he thought to be the Sahara, or whatever other desert he was crossing. It was an endless task, and a life or death one at that. If Merlin were to stop even for a moment, he would surely not get back up. If he didn't get back up, he would die. So he continued, day and night, night and day, never straying from the constant walking.
Merlin knew he didn't have much longer to live. He had to find a town and soon. Whether it be large or small, wealthy or poor, so long as Merlin could get some water and rest. He had had no rest since he had left the water.
Merlin heard a sound behind him. It sounded like the clop of a horse's hooves. Instinct took over Merlin and he broke into a sprint fast enough to rival any horse. The horse's hooves also sped up. Merlin ran and ran, the same routine he had done since Blaise's death. It was the routine to survival, and Merlin desperately wanted to carry out his promise to Blaise; take the ring to the Utopian Realm. And he couldn't do that if he was dead.
Slowly but surely, the horse caught up to Merlin, and its rider tried none too gently to pull Merlin onto his horse. Merlin purposefully slid off the horse, and landed head first in the sand. There happened to be a rock not to far under the surface, upon which Merlin hit his head and fell unconscious.
***
"Father! He's waking up!" shouted a small boy of about Merlin's age.
Looking about him, Merlin saw he was in a a damp cottage, which looked to be made of some sort of yellowish stone. He was sitting on a thin blanket on the floor. Other than his uncomfortable bed, there was no other furniture. Furthermore, there seemed to be no other people as the boy returned with his father.
The man the boy called father had brown eyes, a goatee, and was wearing a sand-colored turban on his head. He looked at Merlin with something like concern in his eyes.
"Are you alright?" asked the man, kneeling down to be eye-level with Merlin.
"Yes, I think so." replied Merlin, rubbing his temples.
"You hit your head pretty hard. What's your name stranger?"
"My name. . . My name is Merlin."
"Interesting name. You don't come from here do you?" asked the man casually.
"No. I come from Britain."
"Britain!" exclaimed the boy, "How long have you been traveling? It must have taken ages to get here from Britain by foot!"
"I have been traveling for two cold times."
"Well Merlin, you are welcome to stay with us for a while. You must be very tired after such a long journey." said the father, apparently impressed with Merlin's perseverance.
As the man stood up to leave, Merlin asked a few more questions. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you names?"
"No, of course not! My name is Abdul and my son's is Khoury." replied the man.
"Where am I? Thebes? Memphis?"
"Heavens, no! Why Thebes and Memphis are on the other side of the Great River! This is Jeddah!"
"Where is Jeddah?"
"You don't know where Jeddah is!" exclaimed Abdul, "You truly are a stranger. Jeddah is only a day's ride from Mecca, the holy city of Allah. I was returning from spreading the faith when I saw you. You had better get some rest Merlin. It's been a long day for you."
Abdul ushered Khoury out the door. Within minutes, Merlin was fast asleep.
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