by Jon Monson
“Wait, that thing in the market wasn’t the first one?” Barrick asked, his face growing somewhat pale.
“On the train, a group of Jandarm tried to kill me,” Aydiin said. “I jumped from the moving train to escape – that about killed me by itself.”
“Someone must really be motivated to get yeh,” Barrick whistled.
“That’s the thing,” Aydiin responded, sitting down onto a separate chair. “I think there might be two ‘someone’s after me.”
“Aydiin, you’re a very important person, but are there really two separate groups of people that would care so much about your existence?”
“It’s not a question of how important I am. It’s just that – well, they were both so different. The first time, on the train, the young officer said I wasn’t fit to rule, and the young man seemed to think he was removing me for the good of Salatia. In the Bazaar, the Jolt who almost killed me said his master wanted something.”
“That certainly sounds like two different types of motivation,” Barrick conceded. “I’ll not be arguing with yeh about it anymore, but that doesn’t really answer why yeh want to go to Genodra.”
“Well, in the Pharone Mountains, on the border with Gorteo, there is a monastery dedicated to the Divines. From what I’ve researched, it’s the oldest in the world.”
“Mate, I’m all against marriage, but I don’t think a life of celibacy and self-reflection would really suit you,” Barrick interrupted laughing.
Blushing, Aydiin hurried to finish his explanation. “At this monastery, the monks keep one of the largest and most ancient libraries in the world. I know the Markings have vanished for now, but the scholar in me is dying to know more about the Stone I touched.”
Barrick looked uncomfortable at the mention of the Stone.
“Oh, right. I meant to tell you that your face was looking right beautiful, but I forgot with everything else that was happening. Well, if you need to tell yourself that you’re actually going on some grand adventure rather than going to a fate worse than death, I’ll not be the one to burst your bubble.”
The heavy footsteps of a soldier approached the door, and the two men paused their conversation. The sound stopped and a small scroll rolled under the door. Rising to his feet, Aydiin picked up the paper and flattened it out on his desk by the lantern.
You caused quite the disturbance with your little display in the market today. We’ve had to cancel the planned festivities associated with the departure of a Prince-General. Pack your things quickly – we’ll be by shortly to escort you to a discrete vessel awaiting in the harbor. Tell no one, not even that miserable foreigner you call a friend.
- Prince-Captain Jabari
3rd Battalion commander
Aydiin rolled the paper back up and handed it to Barrick. His friend’s eyes grew a little wider at the end. Aydiin’s youngest brother had always disapproved of Barrick, going to great lengths to make that dislike known. He, of course, would have known that Aydiin would show Barrick the note.
“That little twerp,” Barrick said. “And who signs their name like that to a little note like this? It’s all swoopy and loopy. And how did he become a Prince-Captain?”
“Father promoted him a few weeks before we left for Oltu,” Aydiin said absently as he began looking through his possessions. If they were leaving in secret, he’d only be able to take whatever he could carry.
Footsteps were again audible in the hallways; however, these weren’t the heavy gait of soldiers. The sounds were much more delicate yet hurried. The door burst open.
“Don’t think you can leave without saying goodbye,” Gamila said, unabashed at entering her brother’s room without knocking. Her waist-length, dark hair looked slightly disheveled, and her cheeks were flushed.
Bayram followed closely on her heels, his heavy-breathing indicating the difficulty he’d experienced in following his sister at such a furious pace. Without uttering a word, his older brother took a seat, motioning for Barrick to pour him a cup of wine.
“Who says I’m leaving?” Aydiin smiled at his only sister. “After what happened today, I may not ever be allowed out of the palace again.”
“Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” Gamila flashed a smile. “I saw Jabari slip a note under your door. If his orders were to keep you here, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from delivering the news personally. He would have wanted to see your frustration.”
“That still doesn’t mean he’s going anywhere, lass,” Barrick said as he handed a glass of wine to Bayram, who nodded appreciatively. “That little bugger can’t tell Aydiin what to do.”
“He can’t, but something tells me it wouldn’t be wise to disobey my father,” Aydiin spoke up as he again began looking through his belongings, placing clothing and other items into a satchel. “And I’ve got a feeling it wasn’t Jabari’s idea to get me aboard a ship tonight.”
Aydiin turned to his bookshelf, filled with the greatest works the world had ever seen. He rubbed his chin as he contemplated how many he could bring with him. A body collided with him, and the subsequent squeeze on his ribs shook him out of his thoughts.
“I’m going to miss you,” Gamila said, her voice cracking. Aydiin turned around and pried her arms off him.
He grabbed her chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face slightly. Tears were forming in those beautiful, brown eyes. He realized now her cheeks weren’t just flushed from running here.
At twenty years old, Gamila was the most popular woman in court. Her composure and beauty left the young men flummoxed. Her quick wit and sharp tongue left the older men baffled. Her kindness and warmth left everyone else inclined to spend more time with her.
Aydiin had vivid memories of his mother, whose death still hurt him to dwell on. Yet having Gamila close by had been a close substitute. Although four years his younger, she had always seemed to be the older and definitely wiser of the two. He would miss her terribly.
“It won’t be so bad,” Aydiin said. “I’ll have a wife, so there will be nothing for me to do but settle down. We’ll have you over as often as you want. You’ll finally have nieces and nephews to dote on.”
“So you’re actually going to do this?” Gamila said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I saw the look on your face when I asked you about it. Don’t tell me Aydiin the perpetual bachelor has had a sudden change of heart.”
“I’ve never professed a desire to be a perpetual bachelor,” Aydiin said, letting his sister’s face drop and turning back to his book shelf. As he spoke, his fingers touched the leather spines of the tomes that weighed down the wood. “Marriage is a fine institution – in fact, I would say it’s the last great adventure.”
“You have a plan to escape, don’t you?” Gamila said. Aydiin turned around to see his sister standing with her arms folded, any signs of the tears completely gone. Her brown eyes bored into him.
“Oh boy, I hope it’s a good one,” Bayram piped up from his chair, glass of wine empty.
“Whatever it is, he’s refused to tell me,” Barrick said, his Albonan drawl sticking out among the others’ Salatian accents.
“Does it really matter if I do?” Aydiin asked, ignoring the two men and staring at Gamila. “I think the only thing Father cares about is that I leave the country.”
“Aydiin, you’re going to go get married,” Gamila said. “That poor girl is probably dreaming of what you look like right now. You can’t possibly be cold-hearted enough to lead her on like that.”
“Look, I’m an adventurer – that’s what I do,” Aydiin said, starting to grow slightly exasperated. “I’d be miserable as the dutiful husband to the daughter of some elected politician. Can you imagine me at balls and parties? Being driven around a city by some chauffer who calls me ‘sir’? No thank you.”
“I’m not saying you have to live that life,” Gamila said. “But you shouldn’t go to Genodra planning on abandoning that poor girl. From all accounts, Byanca of House Cavour is a lovely
woman. You two may even get along.”
“Well if she’s such a lovely woman, she can certainly do better than marrying me,” Aydiin said. “How about Bayram? Let him take a crack at it.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” Bayram smiled. Aydiin could tell by the look on his face that he thought this entire exchange to be quite comical.
“Look, Gamila,” Aydiin said, approaching his sister and grabbing her arms gently. “I have to leave. Father won’t let me stay – you know that better than anyone. Now, I don’t want to let our last minutes together be spent fighting over some plan I may or may not be forming in my head at this very moment.”
“Definitely,” Barrick winked. “He means definitely forming in his head at this very moment.”
“Oh, alright,” Gamila said, shooting Barrick her usual look of contempt. “Just try not to hurt her too bad. I know what it’s like to be a woman. Even in these arranged state marriages, we still hope for love.”
“I promise not to hurt her more than I have to,” Aydiin smiled, embracing his sister.
Footsteps sounded on from the hallway, and Jabari entered, flanked on either side by a member of the Guard. A flash of surprise showed on their youngest brother’s face at the sight of all his siblings. Yet he quickly hid it, replacing it with his usual look of disdain.
“Are you ready?” Jabari said, directing his stare at Aydiin.
“Just about,” Aydiin said, turning one last time to look at his books. He finally grabbed Tales from the Age of Divinity - a novel, hoping he’d be able to find some of the more serious works of philosophy in Palmas. He’d been meaning to read it for months now – maybe now he’d actually find the time. He stuffed the leather bound book into his satchel and tied closed the canvas sack.
He nodded to Jabari, who was again clad in his usual white uniform, complete with red cape. Aydiin wondered why the boy insisted on the ridiculous piece of clothing – it hadn’t been in style for decades. He must have thought it dashingly handsome or at least unique.
Aydiin moved to embrace Gamila. She buried her face in his chest, her previous anger apparently forgotten.
“Be good,” she said as she pulled away from his hug.
“I’m going to miss you, old boy,” Bayram said as Aydiin moved to embrace his older brother. “If you do get married, try not to get too boring. And if you don’t, send me a telegraph. I’ve heard that Byanca is quite a catch.”
Bayram winked at Aydiin. He’d never thought much about his brother’s interest in women. Everyone was so surprised he was still alive despite all his illnesses that no one had even thought of arranging a marriage for him. Yet here he was, twenty six years old and still going.
“Don’t keep those fine guards waiting too long, mate,” Barrick slapped Aydiin on the back. He turned around, and Barrick gave him a firm hand shake, avoiding Aydiin’s attempt at a hug.
“Take care of yourself, Barrick,” Aydiin said. “I hope you find your own adventures. Don’t just spend your life going from tavern to tavern.”
“Oh, I’ve already got my next adventure in mind,” Barrick smiled. “It’s a bit of a secret, but something tells me you’d approve.”
Aydiin opened his mouth to ask what his friend was planning, but Jabari interrupted.
“We have to leave – now,” Jabari nearly shouted, his impatience bubbling to the surface. Aydiin grabbed his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He followed his brother out the door, leaving the only people in the entire world he truly cared for.
Following Jabari and the guards through the halls, Aydiin’s thoughts already began drifting towards his next steps. He of course would miss Maradon, but Genodra held the answers he was seeking. The attack today in the market had something to do with the Stone he’d discovered in the Lonely Spire – he was sure of it.
Jabari led them to the stables as a half dozen guards joined them. The smell of horses was comforting in the warm night air. As much as he loved Askari, the stable housing the family’s kertons smelled much worse. Thinking of his other friend brought an idea to his mind.
“I’m taking Askari with me,” Aydiin said. His kerton was just next door. It wouldn’t be difficult at all.
“No, you’re taking a horse,” Jabari said. “Kerton aren’t allowed outside of the country. Besides, it would attract too much attention.”
“We’re going to attract enough attention anyway,” Aydiin responded. “We’re nearly a dozen riders leaving the palace in the dead of night. If someone is watching for me, they’re sure to notice us. Askari is the only reason I’m still alive right now – I’d feel a lot more comfortable with him as my mount.”
Without waiting for a response, Aydiin strode out of the stable and across the small courtyard to the separate building where the kerton were kept. Jabari strode behind him, likely thinking of his next words to stop Aydiin from taking his kerton.
“Where’s Askari?” Aydiin asked one of the kerton handlers who sat on a stool near the entrance. The man pointed to the kerton’s usual stall, and Aydiin strode over to the iron cage used to contain the only friend that would be accompanying him to Genodra.
He pulled the key from his pocket – something he’d forgotten was in there – and began opening the lock.
“You can’t do this,” Jabari hissed, his face growing red. “What will he eat? I don’t think the captain of your ship will appreciate a kerton devouring all his meat.”
Aydiin hadn’t thought of that. He looked to the groomsman.
“Will you please go fetch a goat?” Aydiin asked the man.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” the servant shook his balding head. “He ate one of the men that attacked you today, sir.”
“Oh, well that’s…disgusting. But also great,” Aydiin said, turning to Jabari. “Askari really only needs to eat every few weeks or so. He’ll be grumpy by the time we get to Palmas, but he’ll be just fine.”
Aydiin finished opening the lock and entered the iron cage. Askari looked up at him, and padded his way silently on the stone floor over to his friend and master. Aydiin patted the kerton’s head as Askari nuzzled into Aydiin’s chest. Yes, bringing the kerton was most definitely a good idea.
The kerton handler brought Askari’s saddle, and Aydiin made sure to put it on himself. He never liked trusting the servants to do a job he could easily do himself. Besides, kerton in general were finicky with the handlers – Askari was no exception.
“Well, go get your horses,” Aydiin said as he cinched Askari’s saddle tight. Mouths still hanging open, the guards scrambled to obey, leaving the foul-smelling stables to mount their already prepared horses. Jabari stared at him, the fire evident in his eyes.
“Taking a kerton from the homeland is illegal,” he hissed. “I don’t even know the punishment, because it’s never even been attempted.”
“So those reports I’ve heard of Pilsan warlords using kertons – those must just be fabrications then,” Aydiin smiled, jumping onto Askari’s back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jabari said as a handler brought over Mislan, his fiery red kerton. He hopped onto the creature’s back, and Mislan let out a soft croak in greeting. He opened up his mouth, showing the razor sharp teeth within and pawed at the ground fitfully, the muscles flexing underneath the scaly skin.
“I won’t let you take Askari out of the Sultanate,” Jabari said, his eyes locking onto Aydiin’s. “You can take him down to the docks, but the creature doesn’t set foot on board that ship.”
Aydiin nodded, breaking his eyes away from his brother’s overly intense gaze. Nudging Askari in the sides, the kerton leapt out of his cage and into the main courtyard. Aydiin breathed in the fresh air, glad to be out of the kertons’ stables.
The other guards joined them, mounted on horses. Their mounts made little notice of the brothers’ kertons – after all, any well-trained Salatian war horse would have to at least tolerate the strange lizards. The kerton were as much a part of Salat
ian history as the Salatians themselves.
Jabari rode out ahead of the group, obviously trying to make it clear who was in charge. The sixteen year old wore his uniform with pride – he was obviously not worried about being recognized. The other guards followed their captain, and Aydiin had no choice but to keep up.
The clattering of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone thundered in his ears. It sounded like enough noise to awaken a village – it would certainly be enough to alert anyone who was watching the palace. He would have to keep a close eye for any suspicious figures waiting for him.
The group left through the main gate, riding much too quickly for Aydiin’s taste. As they entered the main plaza that led to the docks, Jabari lifted a hand and the group slowed to a walk.
Street lamps – powered by kerosene, of course - lined the plaza, illuminating the wide avenue. The orange light of the flames flickered, casting long shadows on the street. Aydiin would normally think little of the shadows. However, after two attempts on his life in as many days, his mind created the threat of death within the darkness.
A long park, filled with palm trees, fountains, and foot paths dominated the center of the avenue. It was probably one of the most popular spots in the city, and even at this late hour, pedestrians were enjoying the cool of the gardens. Aydiin made sure to look at each one as they rode by.
Cobblestone on either side of the long gardens allowed for the passage of carriages and the occasional automobile. It was by far the widest street in all of Maradon, serving as the main artery between the two most important features of the city – the harbor and the palace.
After a moment, Aydiin began to feel uncomfortable. He didn’t like how far the other guards – especially Jabari – rode ahead of him. It seemed odd for a group that was meant to protect him.
He nudged Askari in the ribs and the kerton sped up to a respectable trot. Bouncing slightly, Aydiin caught up with Jabari at the head of the group in only a few moments. His brother only looked at him briefly before turning back to look straight ahead.