Msaka awoke a few hours later to the sound of someone knocking solidly on his door. Grudgingly, he climbed off of the bed and stamped over to the door, pulling it open with one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the other.

A guardsman stood outside, his expression polite but serious. "The caravan which you will be travelling with departs in one hour. Please be prompt. Good day." With that, the guard turned and strode away down the hall, leaving Msaka scowling at his back as he shoved the door closed once again.

"It would serve them right if I recalled the earth elemental somehow before leaving, if that's how they are going to speak to me," he thought in annoyance. "But I suppose I should not punish all of them for the rudeness of a few." He gathered his possessions and donned his robe and sandals. With a final glance around the room, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway for the last time.

He wasted no time leaving the inn and crossing the plaza to the city gates, through which the gathering caravan could be seen and heard. A chilly predawn breeze was blowing in from the desert, carrying the smell of the caravan into the city with it. Msaka wrinkled his nose as he strode through the gates. The smell of so many animals and people was certainly not one of the more pleasant aspects of travelling this way, though it would be less pungent once they were away from the city.

He scanned the assortment of men and sauruses, looking for the leader of the expedition. It wasn't too difficult to pick the man out amidst the crowd; he was a huge fellow who must have been nearly seven feet tall, with a dark olive complexion, a thin and neatly trimmed goatee, and a build that would make an apeman jealous. Msaka threaded his way through the mass of people towards him, uncertain as to what arrangements, if any, the city guard might already have made.

Msaka soon stood before him, though he was far back enough to not have to crane his neck too far upwards to look the man in the eye. The caravan master, with a rather intense look on his face, was occupied in reading a parchment scroll, so Msaka cleared his throat to attract his attention.

The caravan master's gaze shifted to Msaka, one eyebrow rising slightly, though he didn't speak. Msaka took that to mean that he was expected to speak first, and did so. "I have need to travel to Shapier," he said firmly. "I am skilled with magic and will join your guard until you arrive there if we can come to terms." Msaka briefly wondered how he had managed to speak in such a relatively eloquent manner, but pushed the thought aside, focusing his attention on the towering man before him.

"Mmm," the man grunted, looking Msaka up and down. "Got your own saurus?"

Msaka shook his head. "No, I do not. Will you be able to provide one?"

"Fifteen dinars, food, and a ride. I've got a full complement already, so I'm not offering more."

Msaka nodded. It was more than he'd been paid on the way here, so it certainly wasn't an objectionable offer. "I accept."

The man pointed one thumb over to a small group of sauruses being tended by a pair of stablehands. "Pick one before they're taken. You're responsible for it as long as you're with me."

Msaka nodded again. "I shall keep it safe," he said, then turned and paced over to the animals. He quickly glanced them over, assessing each of them. None seemed notably better or worse than the others, so he took the reins of the nearest one and led it off a short distance before mounting up and riding it back and forth a few times to get used to the being in the saddle again.

It didn't take too much longer for the packing to be completed, and soon afterwards the caravan was ready to move out. Farewells were called back and forth among the caravan members, the guardsmen, and those who'd come to watch its departure. Finally, it got underway, riding out through the gap in the mountains into the open desert.

Msaka rode near the front, having grown used to doing so on the previous trips. While not specifically asked to do so, he made certain to regularly scan the areas the caravan was passing through. Just because the sorcerer had apparently fled Shapier didn't mean he wouldn't leave a nasty surprise in his wake if he knew where Msaka was going to be.

He found himself pondering the fortune he'd been given. Clearly, he'd brought a death of sorts to Raseir, and had then undone it, much as had been stated. Had it been justified by the terms of that prediction? He certainly had had cause to do what he did, but such prophecies were all too often vague in that regard. On the other hand, another event like it apparently lay ahead, only the next time it wouldn't be reversible, and would be the result of something he didn't do. Perhaps something in Silmaria? That seemed the logical assumption, but he knew that there was no way to be certain until it happened.

The journey progressed over the next few days, Msaka's scans revealing no magical threats to himself or to the caravan. As the caravan swung about westward along the northern mountains on the final leg to Shapier though, a decidedly nonmagical threat presented itself.

From the hills above came two streams of humanoid figures, charging down the hillside with wild abandon and a roar of inhuman battle cries. The guards responded quickly, rallying to defend the caravan as the attackers poured down towards it, a scattering of arrows fired from hidden positions above making the job that much more difficult. Some of the guards returned fire with their own bows, but it did little to halt the twin mobs' advance, nor were the hidden archers particularly vulnerable to the arrow fire.

Msaka swore loudly as soon as he saw the horde appear and jumped down off of his saurus, crouching behind the side of the animal that faced away from the attack. While he could protect himself somewhat from magical attacks, arrows were another matter entirely, and sitting high atop a mount would just make him an obvious a target. He quickly invoked his Hide spell and faded from view. It was his only real defense against missile fire, but it would do nothing to stop a stray shot from skewering him if luck turned against him, even if no one could target him directly.

The charge needed to be broken, however, or the jackal-like humanoids would almost certainly overrun the guards by sheer numbers. Peering over the animal, he saw that there was still a short distance between the assailants and the guards. "Perfect," he thought, aiming his staff in the direction of the leftward column.

He willed his magic forth thrice in rapid succession, and three lines of flame flickered from the ground in the open space between, crosswise to the attackers in a triangular formation. The fire walls weren't terribly long, but placed as they were, they had their desired effect. The humanoids' charge broke up, some of them being forced through the flames by the momentum of their rush before the rest could come to a halt. The flames weren't immediately fatal to those who stumbled through them, but were certainly hot enough to leave serious burns on those victims.

Unfortunately, there was no time left to repeat the trick on the other side, nor would the fire walls do anything to stop the archers. A moment later, the right hand mob crashed into the front ranks of the guards, and the sounds of battle quickly filled the air. Msaka quickly realized there was little he could do to help on that side, so he instead started to unleash arcs of lightning into the leftward group, trying to deny them the chance to get reorganized. He swore again as he was forced to resummon his staff after it winked out following his second blast, but fortunately it only took a moment for him to do so.

Some of the leftward humanoids pressed forward, skirting around the flames to close in, while others broke away and began fleeing back up the hill. Msaka gritted his teeth and continued lashing out at those who were advancing. His strikes cut some down, but others made it through, and the clash of steel began to sound from that direction as well.

Undaunted, Msaka kept up his assault, recalling his staff again when it disappeared for the second time. The battle quickly increased to a feverish pitch, as the more numerous but less well equipped humanoids battered at the valiantly defending guards. It was quite obvious that no quarter was going to be given by these assailants, which undoubtedly prompted the defenders to fight that much harder.

Msaka was finally forced to halt his magical assault lest his spells injure the caravan guards along with the attacking mobs. He was considering whether to move in closer so as to be able to strike with other magics, but never got the chance to. A flicker of movement in his vision was followed an instant later by a flash of pain in his skull, and the world went dark.