A laughing voice coming from behind instantly put him on alert. “Well it seems one of the guests is out here, all by himself.”
Zeren turned around. There were three of them. Khanate warriors dressed in leather armor, similar to what Miri preferred. Judging from the wineskins they held in their hands, the three guards were clearly as drunk as he. “Pleasant eventides to you three,” Zeren said. “I had not realized sentries are allowed to drink.”
The biggest of the three turned to the others and started laughing. “Pleasant eventides? I thought only women would make that kind of greeting! I even heard Lethe was ruled by women.”
Zeren grinned as the moonlight shone over his face. He always liked to smile before a fight. “You all wear leather cuirasses. Where I come from those are only worn by women and children. Should not the three of you be asleep beside your mothers at this hour?”
The big man of the group turned and snarled. “Watch your tongue, outlander. In these realms even a single insult is tantamount to a challenge.”
Zeren shrugged. “Just a single insult? Well since there are three of you then it is best I throw out two more.” He pointed at the man’s bulbous nose. “Do you breathe through that, or is it a diseased shroom growing in between your eyes?”
The three men scowled at him. The shortest one turned to the biggest. “Are we going to let him insult us like this, Tugat?”
Zeren pursed his lips. “That is your name? I once had a pet ret named Tugat. Since you three are too stupid to know what that is, think of a canis- but many times smaller.” He held up an empty palm. “It is half the size of my hand. A disgusting, cowardly creature that dwells in a sewer. Since you three are too stupid to know what that is either, think of a small gutter where everyone’s dung and piss travels along. It is what the three of you smell like.”
Tugat threw away his wineskin and ran towards him. Zeren sidestepped his punch and smashed his gauntleted fist just behind the bigger man’s ear as he passed him by, with a healthy assist using his mindforce. The other man fell face first into the dusty ground, completely stunned. The other two were momentarily surprised as Zeren dashed forward, his fist aiming for the bridge of the next man’s nose. The second man had no time to react as the blow landed squarely in his face and he fell backwards, blood spurting from his broken nostrils.
The third man was not as drunk as his other two companions. A bone axe was strapped to his hip and he quickly pulled it out, just as Zeren turned in his direction. The guard advanced and swung his weapon at his head, but the renegade Magus blocked the strike using his left vambrace, shattering the embedded obsidian shards along the edge of the weapon. Zeren threw a flatfooted kick at the man’s abdomen, which sent the guard tumbling backwards. The blow to his stomach had been mostly absorbed by the leather gambeson, and the man started to get up. Zeren dashed forward again and delivered an uppercut beneath the other man’s chin just as he looked up at him. The blow shattered the guard’s jaw and he was knocked out before his body fell onto the ground.
Zeren picked up the wineskin he had dropped before walking away. “That is what I do to a bunch of stupid rets.”
Chapter 6
The Lethean sand sail was brought into the territory of the main Khanate holding a few days later. Along the base of the mountain was a rocky spine, serving as a natural pier to park the fleet of land ships, and the outlander vessel had been guided in to situate itself between a cleft of hills equal in height to its main deck, allowing them to place bronze planks for easy access to and from the sand sail.
The crew was in high spirits. They felt their journey had finally ended, and there was a sense of relative safety and eventual riches to be had. A few local tribesmen looked on in awe at the strangers who had come from a land that had been once considered to be mere legends for their children. Orilion instructed his crew to be friendly, and many of them smiled and waved fervent greetings to the gawking crowd beginning to assemble on the dusty ground below.
Miri had stowed her spear back in the sand sail’s hold, though she still carried a dagger as she stood by Orilion’s side on the main deck. “I think it best you tell your crew not to divulge the knowledge that I am a Striga, nor should anyone say Zeren is a Magus.”
The leader of the expedition nodded. “Are you expecting trouble, Miri?”
Miri glanced over at Zeren and Rion, who were both at the other side of the main deck. “Last eventide a few roaming thoughts caught my attention even though I had not intended to use my Vis. It seems Zeren had been in a fight with a few of the sentries of the Khanate guard, yet we were never told of this.”
Orilion scowled. “By the gods! If we have somehow offended them, then this journey will end in disaster.”
Miri raised a calming hand. “I had a talk with Zeren, and he told me it was nothing more than a drunken brawl. Nevertheless, we must be wary. We do not know their true strengths other than sheer numbers, so it is best they do not know ours.”
“Do you think Lord Vorconis knows what had occurred?”
“I have no doubt of it,” Miri said. “It was his stray thoughts that had leapt into my mind.”
“If he brings up this incident? Do we place the blame on Zeren?”
“We can make an apology and tell them Zeren was drunk with too much wine and no longer recalls what had happened,” Miri said. “It seems the politics in these lands are as complicated as those in Lethe, and we must be on guard.”
Orilion pursed his lips. “Sensible advice, Miri. I shall instruct the other crewmembers accordingly. I will also tell them to tone down their admiration for the boy, lest the people in these lands learn too much of him.”
When the expedition was finally brought before the presence of the Khan, word had already spread of their arrival across most of the Sea of Dunes. Assorted tribes would stand by the side of the dusty path to gawk at the outsiders as they were escorted by the Khanate guard. The travelers from Lethe noticed the disparity between the many breeds of humanity. Some tribes had fur-covered bodies while others were completely hairless; their bald, pointed heads and bulging eyes gave them a semblance to statues of stone. The entourage eventually made its way into the foot of one of the cave entrances. Todrul and a few handpicked men stayed behind to watch over the sand sail while everyone else was ushered towards the Great Cavern. The stone tables had been moved aside and representatives from all the major tribes stood along the edges of the hall to observe the procession. Vorconis led the way, followed by the leaders of the expedition. Rion stayed close to Miri, even after one of the guards gestured at him to stay behind with the others.
It was mutually agreed Orilion would do most of the talking for them. Miri was free to interject as needed. For the last few eventides on their way to the Khan, Todrul, Miri, and Orilion held a number of private meetings in order to determine the way to proceed with the negotiations. Both Rion and Zeren were also in attendance, though the latter was mostly drunk, and therefore didn’t remember much of what was discussed. Miri had been reluctant to use her mindsense to pry into any secrets these people had, but circumstances had made it necessary to be prudent, for they were in an unknown land, and the possibility of danger was always present. Based on random snippets of thoughts she had gleaned from the guard’s stray thoughts, it appeared there were nests of intrigue in the seemingly united Khanate. The Khan himself was rumored to be ill, and had frequent bouts of lunacy, while his wife the Khatun had plans of her own. When told of these developments, Orilion merely nodded. This valley was as vicious as the schemes that had been occurring at Lethe between the noble houses there.
Vorconis stood just a few paces in front of the court and bowed to the Khan and his family sitting behind the main table. Lorrt had gone ahead of them, and he was now standing just further back from the seated Khan, alongside Wulfgen. A number of large leather sacks had been carefully placed on the table for perusal by the ruling family.
“My noble Khan,” Vorconis said. “When I was tasked in deali
ng with the tribe that shall not be named, a group of travelers from a faraway land happened upon my camp.” He stood aside while gesturing at the traders. “They are from the fabled city of Lethe, and they are here to reopen the old trading routes our ancestors once engaged in. These bags of valuables have been set on your table are gifts from their city.”
Dural looked down at the leather sack in front of him with the wonderment of a child. His trembling hands undid the strap and he reached into the container, using his fingers to feel its contents. The Khan made a hoarse cry of surprise which temporality shocked the audience, before he pulled out a handful of glittering gems from the sack. “These jewels,” he said, flashing a toothy grin. “I have … never seen such fine craftsmanship.”
Orilion smiled and bowed his head slightly. “Those were taken from the mines of our fair city, my Khan. Our jewelers are quite skilled in making even the roughest cut of stone to shine like the sun during the darkest of eventide.”
Dural nodded several times as he held the largest of the gems in front of his eye and peered through it. “These are great treasures you give. What is it you wish in return?”
“Merely an opportunity to engage in a fair bit of trade with your people, Khan,” Orilion said. “I am sure there is something in your territory that would be useful to the citizens of Lethe. Aside from gems, we have also brought bladders filled with exquisite wine, perfumed water, powdered dyes of all colors, and glassware, such as obsidian.”
“These things are all well and good,” Dural said. “The valley can offer you many things such as … such as ….”
Eyes widened as the Khan started stammering. Everyone could see he was now trembling; the diadem on his forehead had begun to slip off. A trail of saliva drooled down his chin, while his eyes became cloudy. Wulfgen immediately leaned forward and held Dural by his arms, gesturing with his head towards his own men. Two Zaash tribesmen quickly supported the Khan as he was brought out towards the adjoining tunnels behind the hall. Since they had been told about the Khan’s condition beforehand, the travelers kept their composure and stayed quiet. Zeren had failed to listen during the meetings and was about to dash forward until Miri mentally gave him an order to stand still using her mindsense. Hushed murmurings began to be spoken among the gathering, but everyone became quiet once more when the Khatun stood up.
Nuada suppressed a sigh as she looked at the strangers before her. “I must apologize on behalf of the Khan, for he has been sick with fever for the past several moons. On behalf of the Khanate, let me say we are very thankful for these gifts you have brought to us. I shall confer with the treasurers as to the kinds of goods and coins we could trade with you. In the meantime, you shall be our guests at our cavern complex, here at the base of this mountain.”
Orilion bowed a second time. “I thank you, Khatun. May we have the permission to trade with the other tribes in the area?”
“Not yet,” Nuada said. “As you have seen, our Khan has taken ill, and he is the one who may approve of it. Give us a few days, and we shall most certainly give you permission to do so. As of now, I declare the next three days to be ones of feasting and celebration, for this event signals the return of prosperity between the far off people of Lethe and the tribes in the Sea of Dunes.”
That night, Miri lay on the furred bed by the side of a chamber entrance, dreaming of a strange underground city beneath the mountains. She was standing on a platform, floating along a river that seemed to snake through the middle of the silent metropolis. High above, she could see distant stalactites enclosing the area around her, like a solid sky of jagged, pointed cones.
Something huge radiated out in the distance, illuminating the barren blocks of granite and obsidian. She looked down and sitting beside her on the raft was Rion, his head resting on his fists, staring out blankly along the water. She kept looking at the structures around her, expecting a face to reveal itself from one of the bare windows, but not a single sign of life could be seen nor heard. Staring down at the waters below, it returned her pale reflection, revealing nothing else but an inky blackness.
Only when she looked to the rear of the craft did she realize there was another occupant on board with them. It seemed to be a man covered completely in a black robe. At least she thought it was a man, but now she couldn’t be sure.
The hooded figure held a long pole with both hands, and used it to push the raft along the still waters of the canal. Miri tried to speak, but no words came out of her mouth. She crouched down and tried to get Rion’s attention by placing her hand on his shoulder, but the boy continued to stare blankly ahead.
As their craft drifted onwards, they came upon a giant mouth of a cave to which the river would lead into. Miri tried to gaze at what lay beyond, but it was nothing more than pure darkness, a complete absence of color and existence. She turned and tried to signal the ferryman to stop, before the yawning black maw could swallow them all, but to no avail. Miri tried to get over to where the robed man was standing, in order to take the pole from him and steer the raft back to the light, but her body seemed to move in slow motion. By the time she had made it halfway across the deck it was too late, for all three of them were swallowed up by the darkness.
Miri sat up with a start and opened her eyes. She was breathing heavily, beads of sweat running down her forehead. She nervously looked around, and soon realized she was still in the sleeping chambers of the shallow cavern that had been entrusted to serve as their temporary quarters. Rion was sleeping on another bed an arm’s length away, and her spear was propped up by the side of the wall within easy reach. It seemed to be nothing more than a nightmare. Miri shook her head slightly and wiped the sweat off her brow using her forearm. The remains of a heating fire still smoldered in the sandpit at the other side of the room, giving the place a twilit luminosity.
The boy’s breathing suddenly began to quicken. Miri knelt down beside his bed. She could see Rion was also perspiring heavily, despite the valley’s chilly clime. The boy was still asleep, but he was obviously in distress as he shook his head back and forth and made a soft moan. Miri was tempted to use her mindforce to find out what troubled him, but she steadfastly refused to pry into her friend’s minds without permission. She took a furred rag from a side table and wiped the sweat from his face, hoping whatever bad dreams he was having would soon pass away.
Rion’s once calm, sleeping face soon turned into a grimace as the boy’s moaning began to intensify. Even in the twilight, Miri could see the boy’s rapidly moving pupils beneath his closed eyelids. Children his age would commonly have nightmares, but Miri felt a strange significance with what the boy was currently experiencing, it was almost as if the strange dream she had just experienced might have something to do with his own.
Using her mindsense, Miri sent out her invisible psionic tendrils to see if the presence that had been plaguing her was in the room along with them. Almost immediately, she could feel vast surges of psychic power all around her, like numerous tidal waves of invisible forces crashing into each other, creating aftereffects of immense, unseen energy that caused wanton suffering to those in its path. She knew she would not be able to tame the cascading mental chaos with her power alone, so instead she focused her Vis to act as a shelter for Rion’s mind as the boy’s mental faculties were being battered by the psychic storm all around him.
After a few moments, Rion opened his eyes. Tears dripped down his cheeks as the boy whimpered and then started sobbing. “M-Miri! What happened?”
Miri cradled his head in her arms, using the rag to wipe away his tears. “It is alright, Rion. You were having a bad dream. Whatever was plaguing you has passed. I am with you, and all is well.”
The boy’s chin trembled, making his teeth chatter. “But it was so real, I felt it, like the talons of some monstrous beast!”
Miri had been taught by her foster mother that the best way to deal with the aftermath of nightmares was to talk about it. “Tell me what you dreamed about.”
; “I … was travelling with you in an underground sewer,” Rion said. “The vessel was a platform made of some strange material that floated above the water. I have seen the sewers of Lethe and the liquid felt like something else, as if it was pure water, yet I could not fathom its depth.”
For a brief moment Miri was taken aback. It was the exact dream she had. “Devos, the old teller in my village told me of such a thing- the ancients called it a river.”
Rion looked away. “I remember him. He was kind to me and yet we had to leave him behind, just a few leagues away from the Black Redoubt.”
Miri knew he was dead. Devos had told her he was already dying before they had parted ways. “He is with the gods now. As are all the others of the Arum Navar. They will live on in our memories.”
Rion looked back at her with worried eyes. “But, are you not the last of the Arum Navar tribe?”
Miri shook her head slightly. “Alas, no. Like you, I was but a foundling when my two mothers found me. They had told me as much when I grew up. I do not know what tribe I am truly from.”
Rion clasped her hand. His palms were moist. “Then you are like me. We are both orphans of the wastes.”
Miri smiled faintly. “Yes. In many ways we are alike. Could you tell me more of your dream?”
“A strange man was guiding us using a long stick, much like your spear,” the boy said. “We could not dissuade him from his task, and all we could do was to observe while he brought us to a dark hole where the river flowed into.”
The Maker of Entropy Page 7