by Aaron Dennis
“Peace, Tiamatish explores,” Poland begged as he slowed. “Where is N’Giwah? We have ridden long to meet with him.”
The formation of Tiamatish warriors did not relax and uneasy glances passed between Scar’s troops.
“You ambush us and then demand an audience with our leader?” a tall, sinewy woman asked. “Who are you people?”
“Easy,” Scar said raising an open palm. “Where is Captain Sulas? Has he not been here? N’Giwah should have mentioned our arrival…you are the explorers, no?”
The woman clad in leather bustier and short skirt looked back to her squadron before returning her steely leer onto Scar. “I do not know of what you speak. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
The Tiamatish people gleamed with sweat in the sunlight. It was not a warm morning, but their battle lust had their hearts pumping. Scar raised an eyebrow in wonder before turning to Poland.
“Eh,” Poland vacillated. “I am Poland, strategist to King Gilgamesh of Satrone and I ride with Brandt, King of Alduheim.”
“You are mad, man,” the woman hollered. She pointed her javelin at Scar. “This one you think is King of Alduheim? There are no people there. You have ridden under the sun too long. Go back to your country.”
“I don’t think they know anything about us,” Scar commented.
Poland replied by giving him a look indicating he was exerting the last ounce of his patience. “Are you with N’Giwah or not?” the old man demanded of the explorers.
“What difference is it? Go or face our wrath,” the woman declared.
“I thought your people were calm and neutral in the matters of war,” Scar said sarcastically.
“Peace, King,” Marlayne said and rode beyond him and Poland. “I am Marlayne, a scholar from Closicus. What has all of you on edge? We are not here to fight…obviously.”
“I don’t know you,” the woman scowled. “And we are none of us calm when a contingent of foreign riders sneak upon us.”
“Dammit, woman!” Scar intervened and hopped of his horse. The Tiamatish warrior tensed and pulled back to throw her weapon. “I am Brandt and have ridden from Tironis to seek council with N’Giwah. Now, for the last time, is he here?”
“I am here,” a man who was inconspicuously leaning against a post supporting a shack roof said.
All eyes turned to the tall man’s profile. He was graced by little green and the brown leather leggings he wore covered lanky legs. With his arms folded over his chiseled chest, his head down, and one leg bent over the other, he slowly turned to face Scar. N’Giwah had a shaved head except for a thin, short strip which ran all the way from the top of his forehead to the base of his skull.
“Then, please,” Poland said. “Let us speak civilly.”
The Tiamatish man looked to his people and gave a nearly imperceptible nod. They all relaxed at once. Then he slowly approached Scar and took a long breath, letting his black eyes meet the mercenary’s.
“If I do not like what you have to say, you will take your soldiers and go,” N’Giwah warned with a surprisingly calm demeanor. “Otherwise, you face the anger of a scorned people.”
“I hear you,” Scar answered. “Let me start by saying that we are here only under the friendliest of intentions.”
“Yet you ride with fearsome warriors,” N’Giwah interrupted. “You look like Special Forces to me.”
“You can say that if you wish, and you would not be wrong.” Scar admitted. “But I can only give you my word that we are not here to fight with you. I was under the impression that Captain Sulas had already met with you.”
“I do not know this man.”
“Has no one from Satrone arrived before us?”
“No.”
Scar blinked. He was taken aback and wondered what issue may have arisen. We could not have possibly arrived here first if Labolas set out before me and took a direct route from Tironis. He stared at N’Giwah. The man appeared genuine.
“Then, then I apologize for seemingly blindsiding you.”
He looked to Poland for assistance and was wondering how much of their mission to divulge. Poland nodded before laboriously dismounting.
“Allow me to speak for King Gilgamesh,” he said while hobbling nearer.
“Alright,” N’Giwah consented. “What say you for your king?”
“Word has come to his attention that you have discovered a new passageway into Alduheim.”
“What of it,” N’Giwah interrupted.
“We wish to assist in the exploration. No doubt if we know about your efforts, so do the Khmerans.”
“And?”
“Surely they will attack you.”
“Like the Kulshedrans.”
“No,” Poland said slightly insulted.
“Yes, they have attacked us on more than one occasion. All of you people are bloodthirsty and we will bear it no longer.”
“I, eh, b-but,” Poland stammered.
“Peace, old man,” Scar said. “I would know about these attacks.”
N’Giwah gauged the man before him by slowly looking him up and down. He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.
“You are King of the dead people?”
“That is what they tell me,” Scar answered slowly and despondently.
“That is what who tells you?”
“The Kulshedrans.”
“Maybe they are lying to you.”
“Now hold on a moment,” Lortho started and dismounted. “No Kulshedran is a liar!”
“Hold your tongue, Lortho,” Scar warned.
“But–”
“Just let me handle this,” Scar glared at him.
Lortho punched his shield, and mumbled that no Kulshedran has lied a day in his life. Scar and N’Giwah looked at each other again for a long spell.
“I don’t know who I am, but these good people of Kulshedra have taken me in, forgiven me for slaughtering their people when I fought for Zoltek, and have guided me every step of the way in helping me to discern my origins…I remember nothing of my days before two months prior. They are not liars, but none of us know anything with certainty. Can you not see we are all here under genuine pretense?”
“You, I believe. Them,” N’Giwah said pointing his finger at the riders. “I do not like.”
A wave of offense washed over the troops like a winter’s breeze. Twitches of a nose here and a furrowed brow or two there were the indication that egos were ruffled. No one said anything else for a moment. The prolonged silence between N’Giwah and Scar was more than discomforting to both forces, but the leaders were peaceable if stern.
“Well, they are with me, and I promise no bloodshed,” Scar finally announced. “Now, please, tell me of recent events. We are in the dark here.”
N’Giwah nodded in compliance, but spoke slowly as though choosing his words carefully. “I will if you can tell me why you want access to our passage underground. I find it unsettling that you even know of it.”
Scar shook his head in exasperation, saying, “Fine, we wish to move into Alduheim and search for a hidden knowledge.”
“Brandt,” Poland cautioned.
“Please, Poland, can you not see they are frightened,” Scar answered. “Apologies, N’Giwah. We are here to explore and hopefully avoid skirmishes with the Khmerans, but we were also sent here to aid in driving them back in the event that they tried to move in underground. Personally, I am here because I hope to resolve the issues of my origin once and for all. In the end, if I find that I am in fact King of Alduheim, my goal is to assist in securing peace across the land…Now, as for who knows about your passage and how, I am afraid that is beyond me.”
N’Giwah nodded very slowly before looking over Scar’s men. He then looked back to the pale warrior. Finally, the Tiamatish leader divulged his reasons for worry.
“Only months ago we emerged from one of our caves to find ourselves here, and so we set up this settlement. Soon after, we returned to our exploration and found a curio
us boulder wedged into a crevice. Using our powers of Tiamat we molded the rock and created an opening, which led into a neatly crafted corridor. Since then, we have attempted to map the interior of the castle’s lowest levels without fighting.
“We were successful for only a week before a group of warring Kulshedrans drove the Khmerans into our camps. We pleaded with them all to leave, but they did not heed our words, and as is our custom, we slay only those who do not yield to peace.”
“Well it’s no wonder the Kulshedrans wanted retribution,” Lortho yelled.
“Perhaps, and truthfully our attack forced both peoples against us, but that is the way of Tiamat,” N’Giwah contested. Scar maintained a level head and motioned with his hand for the man to continue, so N’Giwah broke his glaring at the Kulshedran to add, “Between fending off their infrequent raids, we managed to venture deeper and deeper into Alduheim, but found only ever ruin, dust, and bones.
“Now, word of our passage has become known to others, and everyone is trying to force us out. I seek only answers.”
“To what?”
N’Giwah looked away then motioned for Scar to follow him by tilting his head toward a shack. “The King and I will have a meeting,” he said to his people. “You will treat our guests with respect.” He then locked eyes with Scar to warn them all of Tiamatish hospitality. “But if the guests show any volatility, you will kill them to the last man.”
N’Giwah opened the shack’s door and held it for Scar, who walked inside first. Wooden chairs surrounded a small, round table. The Tiamatish man poured water from a leather canteen into two wood cups. After both sat at the table, N’Giwah leaned his elbows upon it and placed his chin in the palms of his hands.
“There is more,” he started. “You no doubt have heard of paladins.”
“Certainly,” the mercenary said with narrowed eyes. “I killed Lovenhaad of Mekosh, the Severe, and Captain Sulas—the man I thought would be here—had helped me.”
“I see…you know…there was a Bakunawan here not long ago, but no Kulshedran by the name of Sulas, and certainly no Kulshedran that did not brandish a weapon.”
“Bakunawan?” Scar suddenly exclaimed.
“Yes, said he was fleeing from Kulshedrans and begged to rest a moment.”
“When?”
“Two nights ago. He left as mysteriously as he appeared.”
“What was his name?”
“He didn’t say. Why?”
“There was a Bakunawan traveling with Captain Sulas.”
“I am sorry I don’t have better news about your friend, but anyway, back to the paladins. A week ago, we found a moveable wall inside the castle, one that raised to reveal an opening into more corridors. Before fully moving into the new area, we met more opposition.
“On our way out to gather supplies for a stay inside the keep, Khmerans were running towards us. We drew our weapons, but they were not attacking, they were in flight for their lives. A paladin had wandered in and cut them down with such ease…these damned paladins claim they fight in the name of the real Gods…what if they are right?”
Scar’s heart skipped a beat. He eyed the dark warrior curiously and nodded slowly. His breathing accelerated with excitement. Scar decided to choose his words carefully.
“You think that’s possible even though you have powers granted by Tiamat?”
Relaxing back in his seat, N’Giwah asked, “Why not?” Scar’s jaw started clenching rhythmically. N’Giwah wet his ample lips. Neither said a thing for a moment. They were gauging each other’s religious proclivities. N’Giwah then returned to his implications. “A Dragon can grant powers, I think. His voice then trembled a bit. “I have seen statues of them in the castle and tapestries of men warring against the beasts. In those woven tales there are images of deities…eight of them.”
“Why do you tell me?”
“Because you are not like the others. I have heard of you, Ghost of Zmaj, the one not blessed by any God, and here you are before me; a man who appeared from nowhere, knows not who he is, and yet has found his way to Alduheim.”
“What do the others think?”
“Others?” N’Giwah shook his head. “I could not have discussed the tapestries’ complex meanings with the others without risking bloodshed. The Tiamatish are only peaceful when they are not threatened and Dragons would most certainly seem a threat…and yet I think Shamara, the oldest woman, suspects something. With age comes wisdom, or so they say.”
“Who is Shamara?”
“My trusted advisor, and my great aunt. She is cousin to Jagongo,” N’Giwah then paused for a moment before sipping his water. “Listen, Brandt, that paladin, the one killing Khmerans, is not actually after them. He is after anyone who is venturing into that newly discovered corridor. We have not been able to make any more headway. He has killed Khmerans, Kulshedrans, and Tiamatish without discrimination.”
“Why?”
N’Giwah only shook his head, but then said, “I have heard that you cannot be defeated…if you help us remove this menace, you and your people are more than welcome to help in exploring, and we may yet work side-by-side, Kulshedrans and Tiamatish, to seek an end to these wars, but understand that most will never believe that they are fighting in the name of a Dragon….” N’Giwah sighed and closed his eyes. “This is going to be the beginning of a most trying period.”
Scar was awed by N’Giwah’s claims and his trust. “Well…I am most grateful for your candor, N’Giwah. I will lend you my blade. I should see this paladin, too.” He trailed off for a moment before deciding to repay the leader’s frankness with his own secret. “You know, the Goddess Silwen, the Lover, appeared before me during our journey. I suspect the Scultonian among my men may have also witnessed her, but he has not mentioned such to me.”
“You saw Silwen?” N’Giwah was nonplussed.
“I did, a beauteous sight, she was, and she told me I would come here to fight a paladin called Ylithia, a woman, but you say there is a man here.”
N’Giwah, who appeared to have just been rattled by Scar’s proclamation, rubbed his eyes profusely before blinking rapidly. He had the look of having just awakened.
“Yes, but I cannot be certain it is a man; that dark armor, full helmet. Whoever this one is has never uttered a word, not once, but the strangest thing is he, or she, or whatever, does not have any food or water…and that worries me the most. What manner of person can live without food or water or rest?” He then added reverently, “Surely it must be the blessing of a God!”
Scar smiled and nodded. He, too, never seemed to need food or water.
“Tell me more of Silwen,” N’Giwah demanded.
“Where do I start?” he looked off and tried to remember her as clearly as possible. “She was a flawless woman, who appeared from the darkness as a whorl of light. She told me that the Dragons are stealing men’s souls, and that Gods are trying to help, but that most people are so overly burdened with fighting for their Dragon Lords that they are blind to their pleas…she also said that my encounter with a paladin called Ylithia would be instrumental in defeating the Dragons.”
“Is that why you are among us? To kill Dragons?” N’Giwah asked with wide eyes.
“I don’t know…but I intend to find out.”
“And your men, you have not told them this?”
“How could I?”
“They will not understand,” N’Giwah agreed.
An interminable pause in the conversation allowed the sound of chatter from the men outside to bleed into the shack. Scar looked down at the table. N’Giwah kept his eyes on the mercenary.
“You are uneasy?” the Tiamatish warrior asked.
“You are the only person I have ever met that is open to the possibility of Dragons, and Dragons posing as Gods at that.”
“It seems impossible, doesn’t it…yet…I cannot flee from this feeling,” he heaved.
“There are answers somewhere in that castle, aren’t there,” Scar attested.<
br />
“One way or another, we are going to find out.”
Chapter Seventeen- The paladin
It had taken some persuasion, but the explorers of Tiamat, following their leader’s orders, had provided Scar’s troop with some much needed down time. The two days spent in practically constant travel had left butts and backs rather sore.
Though the Kulshedrans among them were skeptical that their own kind could have ever wantonly attacked the Tiamatish people, they certainly believed that fighting back was the right course of action. Still, they made a true effort to overcome feelings of resentment, and likewise, the Tiamatish explorers made a supreme effort to treat foreigners as guests.
That hospitality was little more than scraps of food, a fire, some water, and idle conversations about the land or weather. Regardless of the trivial nature of breaking bread, the dark skinned warriors were genuine, so too were Scar’s men, though moments of reticence may have initially hindered their conversational skills, with the exception of Marlayne, who was only ever a brilliant conversationalist.
Since N’Giwah and Scar had returned from their meeting to join the rest, the two leaders started to explain what was at stake; taking down a paladin in order to gain access to the newly discovered corridors deep under Alduheim. On logs and stumps surrounding a spit over dying flames, Scar said that both he and N’Giwah believed whatever might be within the corridor’s walls was of supreme importance if a paladin had suddenly appeared and taken over. While sharing strips of warmed meat with one another, the peoples of Tiamhaal aired their concerns.
“Those paladins are mad,” Rauls remarked.
“Indeed they are,” one Tiamatish woman agreed. “But this one is the fiercest fighter I have ever seen. Among those she felled was my own brother. May Tiamat let him sleep in Thalatte.”
The woman then kissed her fingers and gently touched the ground.
“We should plan to move in with only a few fighters,” Poland suggested.
“You will need more than a few!” the woman who had accosted them earlier yelled.
“Peace, Hija,” N’Giwah said to her. “Let him explain why he feels this way first.”