The Melaki Chronicle Volume II

by William Thrash

  The man appeared to be having trouble breathing. The shield was interfering. He worked faster. Moving to the other lung, he cleaned, then healed. The blood seeped in the area and the man convulsed, holding back a coughing fit.

  Nope, I need the shield. Bad lung cases often were a matter of cleaning and healing, but this case was so bad that even the act of cleaning could kill the man. Working faster, he felt the sweat began to pour down his face. Faster, faster, clean, shield. The man was quivering in his chair, struggling to breathe. He was on the cusp of passing out.

  Melaki healed the other lung and removed both shields from inside the man. He hadn't known when he had gotten there, but he was on his knees, drained. He delved.

  The man's eyes were open, bugged out, face red. Then he drew in a breath. He stopped, then drew more in.

  Melaki slumped. The man's lungs were healed.

  The man drew in even more, a look of wonder on his face. He leapt out of his chair and drew in great lungfuls of air. He blew them out and did it several more times. “I can breathe. I can breathe. I can breathe.” Tears running freely down his face, the man dropped down onto his knees and hugged Melaki. He wept. He wept and sobbed like a child. “You are a gift from the gods.”

  Melaki shook his head. “I think a gift from the One God, for it was He who directed me here. If you give thanks, give it to Him.”

  The man nodded through his tears. “Anything I can do--”

  “Sell me your business.”

  “Gladly.”

  “Go and see your sister and open business there.”

  The man was still nodding, crying. “I shall.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Lagash watched with amusement as the last of the royal family slid down onto the impaling spike. The demon had not always been emperor of Vattonses; he had taken fleshly form and become the top counselor to the king and his family.

  During a coup, he had imprisoned the royals. He had made the claim they were evil. A few spiritual tricks and effects and the palace court of counselors saw the wisdom in the deposing of the king.

  Humans are so easily fooled. Even the ones who think they are smart. Especially the ones who think they are smart. Their pride and arrogance gets in the way of reason.

  The last royal was young prince Cadac. Nine years old. He died screaming on the impaling stake.

  Lagash was pleased. He adored hearing the screams of children.

  He had ordered the stripping of all of his borders. His entire army was on the march to confront the border at the colony of Atlantis. With the Euskaldani out of the way, he could turn and take down each of the petty warring countries on the peninsula, one-by-one. The human rulers were too stupid to band together against him.

  He would be like Lucifer. He would rule from a throne and man would bow to him. But he would do it in the flesh, a living god on Earth – not just influencing from the unseen spirit-world.

  No, he was destined for greater things. He could see himself leading the armies when God came in the flesh to war against Lucifer's avatar.

  The guards started to remove the boy from the stake. Tears were on their faces and it made him sneer. “Leave him there. It pleases me.”

  The guards and counselors bowed and withdrew, hiding the hate and fear in their faces.

  They can hate me all they want. It is their fear and worship I demand. Fear brings control.

  * * *

  Adaris had grown accustomed to dining at night with Elleri. She was so gentle and fragile. He felt protective of her and felt a bond developing that could lead to...

  What? What could it lead to? A spy marrying a maid? While not forbidden, he would need to pay her wage-price to the owner so he could find a replacement. Maids in the palaces were slaves.

  He had spent the week with her -- her eyes big and happy, wondering and inquisitive, daring sometimes to hope. They dined at an inn that served some delicious fish meals.

  It was a week before he would need to send his false reports. They sat eating, mostly done.

  “Why do you appear so sad?” Elleri said.

  Adaris sighed. “I am not sad. I am happy to be with you and look forward to our dinners.”

  “But you look sad at other times. It makes me sad to see it.”

  “I suppose...” He was not sure what to say or how to say it. He did not want to lie to her. “I suppose I have a difficult task to accomplish.”

  “And that makes you sad?”

  They were amidst a crowd of eaters at a loud inn. People laughed and argued, and spoke of great legends and the like. The place was always busy. Having no fear of being overheard, he leaned a little and spoke low. “I do not agree with the task set before me, but I am under orders.”

  Her eyes got big and her mouth formed an open circle. “A task is a task--”

  “This one, I believe, is not good.”

  “It would bring evil?”

  “I believe it would bring bad results.”

  “Then you should tell--”

  “I can not. My emperor will not listen.”

  “He does not sound like a good ruler.” Elleri pouted.

  “That is just the thing, he normally is. I do not understand why the sudden scheme.”

  “Perhaps he is ill?”

  “I thought the same.” He sat back and swirled the wine in his goblet. “His plan could work, but will cause much damage in the process.”

  “That does not sound like a good plan.”

  He smiled at her, faintly. She was so simple, so quaint. So refreshing. “All rulers should be such as you.”

  She looked down. “You mock me.”

  “I do not.” The earnestness in his voice made her look up. “I just wish I did not have to be devious about what I have to do.”

  “Then do not do it.”

  “I wish it were that simple.”

  Elleri leaned forward, the innocence radiating from her. “But it is.”

  “I do not think--”

  “Maybe you do not think enough about doing the right thing.”

  He laughed. “It seems all I think about.”

  “Then you should think about it harder. I would never do the wrong thing just because I was told.”

  “Dangerous words for a slave.”

  She looked at him. “Dangerous words for a diplomat.”

  * * *

  Melaki carried the crate of parchments and leathers with him past the desk.

  Galli sat there, helping a customer transfer a horse to another customer. The shop had been opened for three days. The traffic in and out was not too impressive, but Melaki had commissioned a bigger and brighter sign. Eventually word would get around.

  He sighed. Ahead of him was the stupefying task of rewriting all his notes, rethinking all his diagrams, and remembering all his interesting new spell applications.

  Would he ever find rest?

  In the grave.

  “How refreshing,” he said.

  “Hmm?” said Galli.

  “What? Oh, nothing. Musing to myself.”

  “Of course you were, master.”

  “Eliam still trying to talk to Rishtu?”

  “Indeed.” He went back to shuffling parchments and applying the official Callacan seal.

  Carrying his crate into the upper offices, he settled the supply of materials into a chair and began distributing them to his desk. He stacked the parchments, the scraps, and set out the ink bottle and quills. He placed four candles in their holders – not for the light, but for the wax. He carefully laid the metal stylus next to a candle for wax impressions.

  He heaved a sigh. Satisfied he had what he needed, he sat down, dreading what was coming. Picking up the quill, he pulled a parchment and placed it before him. When he had first started, he had scribbled at first on scraps. Later, he had moved to writing thoughts on parchment.

  This time he started straight away on laying out the differences between spirit and giant magic – what he thought of them and why.


  He began listing the attitudes of men and their beliefs. He listed his thoughts in counterpoint. He listed the differences in usage, the advantages and disadvantages. He described the problems with efficiency.

  He realized after much writing that the light had grown dim.

  He straightened, feeling the cracks radiate up his spine. He got up and stretched. He heard the door open below.

  Wandering downstairs to the business floor, he saw Galli there, giving Eliam instructions.

  “Tire of talking to Rishtu?” he said.

  Eliam frowned. “Bird will not climb on my hand.”

  “He is tuned to me.”

  “Tuned?”

  Melaki nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Like a musical instrument.”

  “So he would never--”

  “Relate to you as he does to me. No.”

  The former subcommander looked extremely annoyed. “A raven scout would have been--”

  “Rishtu is indeed a raven scout. But he scouts for me.”

  “I must trust you know what to scout for?”

  He coughed to hide a smile. “Well, I have him watch for vicious looking mice.”

  Eliam rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, that is very useful.” He threw up his hands.

  Galli actually snorted.

  Melaki said, “Who is watching our home?” Their home was in back of the tower. It was small, but workable.

  Eliam gave him a bushy white eyebrow. “Rishtu. Against particularly vile-looking mice.”

  Melaki chuckled in spite of himself. “The carpenter comes tomorrow to shutter the windows and I have a locksmith coming to add more locks to the rear door. But we should watch til then, no?”

  The old soldier nodded. “Very well.” He disappeared through the back.

  The front door opened. A wiry-looking man entered and shut the door quietly – practiced, easily.

  Melaki tilted his head, watching the man as he wandered amongst the supplies for records. Parchments and papers, not unlike what he had upstairs. Inks and wax for seals. Melaki had chosen a finer sort than what was required for records-keeping and what was offered in their own business.

  Finally the man squinted at Melaki and Galli. He approached, eyeing them both as if scrutinizing a repair problem. Or a puzzle. He looked over Melaki's robes and then eyed Galli. His scrutiny of the assistant was much shorter.

  The man was black of hair, thin, and had a bookish look about him. But he did not look weak. A fierce intensity to his eyes was reminiscent of both Galli and Eliam.

  The man pointed at Melaki. “You are the man who is not Atlantean who is an Atlantean wizard.”

  Galli groaned. “Really now. That much is obvious.”

  “Altanlean,” said Melaki in correction.

  He waved away Galli's noise. “Yes, you even speak as they do.”

  “Are you yet another assassin come to deliver a message from Tarep?”

  “What? Assassin? No. Are you not supposed to be in Roka?”

  Melaki stiffened. “Explain yourself.”

  The man bowed. “My sorrow, wizard, I meant no offense. Your name is Mel... Mek... Melk...”

  “Melaki.”

  The man snapped his fingers. “That is the name.”

  “And what would you have of me?”

  “Oh. Please pardon me. I am a man of information. It is of no consequence that I recognize you.”

  Melaki and Galli both raised eyebrows.

  “I am here on something that has nothing to do with your identity. Though...”

  Melaki did not like the pause. He did not know what the man was getting at. “Though?”

  The man appeared agitated, unsure.

  “Out with it, man.” Melaki crossed his arms.

  “How do you feel about the Vattonses Empire?”

  He uncrossed his arms and tilted his head. “I try not to think about them at all.”

  “But they fight your kinsmen to the north, the Euskaldani.”

  “They are not my kinsmen and I have no love for the Altanleans.”

  “Do you know the Vattonses also fight the Jubalites of the Meseditt Empire along the far eastern coast?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “You are of the Meseditt, are you not? Your features--”

  “I am.”

  “I am in the information business--”

  Melaki frowned. “You said that already.”

  The man bowed. “Allow me to start over. I am tasked with wrecking the Vattonses here on the peninsula by the Emperor Oolan of Tartessan.”

  “A lofty goal,” said Galli.

  Melaki said, “What does this have to do with me?”

  “Well, nothing, actually. But perhaps I could use your business.”

  “How so?”

  “You have the official brass seals of state?”

  “We paid a hefty sum to attain them.”

  The man bobbed his head. “I need five seals on parchments I would provide.”

  “To what end?”

  “To unsettle and topple the Vattonses.”

  “That would be a worthy endeavor,” said Galli, “but why would you need seals to do it?”

  “My emperor aims to draw Callacan into the fighting. I need a few simple scrolls stamped with the Callacan seal and the fate of the Vattonses will be sealed truly.”

  Melaki shared a look with Galli. It was not encouraging. Misuse of the seals could bring a heavy prison sentence.

  The wizard stood taller. “Return to me tomorrow and we shall discuss this further. What was your name?”

  “Adaris Radek, Information Agent to Emperor Oolan of the Tartessan Empire.”

  * * *

  Adaris walked out of the shop conflicted. He thought it odd he had so easily trusted them with his real name. But he also felt inside he could trust them. Somehow.

  As an information agent, he should know that information was victory. Give away your information and you could lose. But not with the men he had just met.

  He was not sure why.

  He entered the palace complex and headed to the servant's quarters. A rap on the stern door produced a bold woman's face.

  “Elleri?” he said.

  “Yes,” said the woman. “You again. Very well, she is expecting you.” She shut the door. He heard a loud call from inside.

  The door opened again and Elleri was there, emerging, all light and peace and... love.

  He knew it as he thought it. He felt it for this simple laundry maid. His smile was soft and open. “Elleri.”

  Her return smile was small, showing a little flash of white teeth accompanied with a rapid blinking of her eyelids. “Adaris.”

  He took her arm in his and they walked back out of the palace complex. “Why not a different place tonight?”

  “Oh?” she said.

  “Do you like roast beef? There is an inn on the north side that serves a very delicate roast.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I have never had roast beef. But I will try it. As long as it is with you.”

  He wanted to cry. He felt happy, but at the same time sad. How many years had they passed, not knowing each other? How long had they suffered alone, doing their respective duties to the exclusion of happiness?

  He escorted her to the Cheese Barrel, an inn that had no rooms and only served food and spirits. The tables for eating were kept separate from the slightly louder barroom.

  They sat at an empty table and waited for the host.

  “You still look sad,” she said.

  “Maybe because you are forced to do my laundry every day.”

  She waved a hand. “Oh that? Those are my duties. But I fold your clothing with the utmost thought and care.”

  The innkeeper's wife was the host, and all business and brutality. “Dinner is roast beef and potatoes.”

  “For two, please,” he said.

  The woman nodded and walked off without any further acknowledgment.

  Elleri's eyes were big. “The food is good?”
/>   He touched her hand. “Worth the atmosphere.”

  She looked all around, at the patrons and their smiles. Some were arguing something. But none looked disgusted with the food. She settled back in her chair.

  “I promise you will like it.”

  She gave him a reassuring smile. “I will like anything they serve wherever you take me.”

  “I have been thinking about life ahead.”

  She looked at him, her mouth in a small frown.

  “I am not sure I want to be without you.”

  “Me?” The voice was small, fragile, and just barely audible.

  Adaris nodded. “You consume my thoughts--”

  “I thought your task did.”

  “It does, but my thoughts aside from that are all about you.”

  “Should I be happy I am second in your thoughts?”

  This is not coming out right. “I want us to be together.”

  “After your task? Or before?”

  The girl certainly seemed to know where to hit him without knowing anything. “I--”

  “When will you let go of this sadness, this madness, and do what is right?”

  “My...?”

  She leaned forward, tears rimming her eyelids. “I see it consume you. You are as a desperate and drowning man reaching out as he slips under the waters.”

  “I have a task--”

  “That drives you mad with conflict. Listen to your heart.”

  Dinner was very good. But Adaris did not taste it.

  * * *

  “As good as any,” Melaki said.

  Eliam barged inside, chin first, hand on sword.

  “It is just an inn, Eliam,” said Galli.

  Melaki elbowed his assistant. “Allow him to do that with which he is comfortable.”

  Galli grunted.

  “I am sure he feels underutilized since we opened the records shop.”

  Galli nodded and Melaki saw his assistant understood.

  Eliam beckoned – all safe.

  Rishtu flapped down and landed on the sign to await them.

  They entered a very lively looking place. Every day they tried to find a new inn or tavern and try out the drinks. They never drank very much, but of the three, one would require dragging home. It seemed to rotate amongst the three of them.