Starchild Crusaders

by J. J. Pavlov

  A bald old man wearing robes of the clergy stands at the forefront of the men. He points at Jalil and then us while saying something in a forceful tone in the Khurut language. I'm pretty sure it's something about women not being allowed in here.

  Malika steps forward and answers in place of our guide, causing a murmur to run through the crowd. The old man's eyes flick over Fulanah and me but stop on Hestia. They widen in surprise, and he turns around to the sultanah again to ask her something. Her response causes another murmur to expand through the hall.

  "What are you talking about?" I ask her, but she only looks ahead with a frown. It seems that there won't be an agreement at this rate. I put a hand on Malika's shoulder and shake my head. "Stubborn old men and their self-serving traditions, I guess."

  Walking forward under the watchful eyes of the monks, I cross my arms and look down on them with all the displeasure I can muster. Some flinch under my gaze, others return it with scowls.

  "Who is your leader?" I ask into the room, hoping that Malika didn't learn Imperian on her own just for fun and that others in positions of power speak it too.

  A wizened old man with a fuzzy gray beard and his head covered in a turban comes forward while leaning on his gnarled wooden staff as a walking aid. The two crystals embedded in the staff are clear white and dark brown respectively, denoting an affinity in wind and earth magic. I immediately put up my mental guard and prepare for a spellcasting battle.

  "I am Great Master Mahir El-Amin. Who are you?" He asks with a neutral expression. Unlike the old man before him, this one doesn't seem to hold any animosity towards any of us. At least not on the surface.

  "That's unimportant." I wave off his question. "Show me to the transportation network room in your basement."

  "What do you want with it?" Mahir asks with unshakable composure.

  "Just show them." Malika raises her voice and orders in an impatient tone.

  "Sultana Malika Zahra Al-Aziz." Opening his eyes slightly wider than the small slits they were before, the monk looks at her calmly. "Why are you in chains?"

  "That's a long story we don't have to discuss here." I reply in her stead. "Transportation network room. Now."

  "Hohoho. The young are always so impatient." With a typical old man's laugh, Mahir ignores my threatening tone. "Grand Shaman Ilham Al-Hakam Karimi is the only one who has access."

  "Grand Shaman, huh? That sounds more like the title of a leader than the one you have." Eyeing Mahir with suspicion, I comment on the fact that he came forward when I asked for the one in charge.

  "The Grand Shaman has been in the soul chamber, fasting for the last four harvesting seasons. I am acting head priest." Laughing again, he replies.

  "Four... that can't be healthy." When I look at this wizened old man, I can't even begin to imagine what the person who stands above him must look like. To say nothing of the high possibility that he's already dead and mummified after not eating for so long. "Bring me to him?"

  "Women are not allowed inside these halls, let alone the inner-" Mahir begins, but I shake Malika's chain to interrupt him.

  "So you don't care about your sultanah's life?" I've asked this question way too many times already, and it's getting repetitive. They always buckle after this.

  "To be truthful; I do not." The old man replies, contrary to my expectations. "The Al-Arruwa Altabahaqi do not answer to anybody. Not demons nor any worldly leaders. And definitely not to women."

  "Ma maana hedha?!" Malika asks, surprise and indignation mixing in her raised pitch. "Ana sultanah el-hasi bikha!"

  "Leysafi masla hatina!" Mahir announces in an icy tone that causes the sultanah to flinch in shock. He then continues to speak, and I feel compelled to ask Jalil for the interpretation, whose presence I thought wouldn't be necessary here.

  "What are they saying?" I turn around to find him staring at the men across from us with fearful eyes.

  "Treason, master." He quickly replies shortly after Mahir is done. "He say he no acknowledge sultanah. Say she weak, incompetent, getting captured by demon. Say woman should never have sit on throne."

  "Wow." I mutter and look at the tense silence that has laid itself over the room as Malika glares at the old monk in anger and disbelief. To think my holding her hostage would ignite the spark of internal strife like this. And I wasn't interpreting the signs on our way here wrong after all; these monks aren't the only ones who have a problem with a woman leading the nation.

  "You heard him. I have no worth as a hostage. Do what you want." The sultanah turns around to me and states with tears in her eyes. Her gaze remains defiant, and she suppresses the urge to wipe her face. She tries to maintain a strong façade even now. That's worthy of my respect.

  "That sounds like a pretty enticing offer." I deliberately let my gaze run down her body and lick my lips. She doesn't even blink and meets my eyes fearlessly. "Other me, seal the door behind us."

  The female royal guards are grinding their teeth in impotence outside because the male soldiers are actually blocking the way for them. But they haven't followed us inside either. That becomes their downfall, even as somebody among them seems to have understood me. A bellowed order causes several of them to jump into action, but Fulanah has already grabbed the wings of the door and slammed them shut by the time they reach it.

  Just when the wooden bar locking the steel door falls into place, shoulders and weapons bang against it. My other half dusts off her hands at a job well done, but I'm not so sure that the barrier will hold very long.

  "Hestia, cover Malika's eyes." I order her while pulling the sultanah toward me. The collar and chain dissolve back into my body, and I walk past her while she stumbles backward.

  Following my order, the fallen angel puts her wings around Malika and then peeks out from between them with an irrefutably insane but childishly curious expression. She obviously has no intention of averting her eyes from the massacre I'm about to commit.

  "What are you doing? Unhand me!" The sultanah struggles against Hestia's grasp. It seems that her intuition is telling her that bad things are going to happen. But the delicate-looking angel girl is unexpectedly strong.

  "It's better if you don't see what I'm about to do, Malika." Addressing the royalty of this nation without a hint of respect, I turn my attention to the monks and grin. They look uncomfortable in their robes, and even Mahir's expression has grown uncertain. "Have you never been taught not to make girls cry? Unless when it's out of joy, of course. But she didn't look happy to me. Did she to you?"

  "What do you want to do?" The Great Master asks while bracing himself.

  "Just cleaning out the trash." I say and step forward to unleash hell.

  "Cease this!" The voice of an old man echoes through the halls and interrupts me just before my body was about to come undone at its invisible seams.

  The ranks of the monks part to reveal a shriveled, turtle-like old man with a beard that reaches to his knees. He's wearing a turban and only a loincloth, showing an almost skeletal frame that lacks any fat and only has the bare amounts of muscles. Two younger monks with shaven heads and barely any beard growth help him walk, while he still leans on a gnarled staff lacking any visible gems that would tell me his magic affinities.

  "Qadis En-Azimun!" Everybody falls to their knees while speaking these words upon realizing who has appeared. Even Mahir is lowering himself before this living mummy, so it's safe to say that this is Ilham Al-Hakam Karimi, the Grand Shaman, and leader of the shaman caste. They must have been calling out his title.

  "Are you the leader here?" I ask, ready to burst into my real form at any moment in case a battle does begin after all.

  "Yes, you could call me that." So far, this old man's Imperian has been the most accent-free among anybody else. At his age, it's no wonder he was able to learn it to such a degree; he looks to be over a hundred years old.

  "Then I'll ask you nicely, seeing how you prevented bloodshed with your appearance just now." Suppressing my urge
to cause havoc anyway, I keep a civil façade. "Show us to the transportation network room."

  "Very well." Without even arguing, Ilham beckons us to follow him and turns around. Not a single monk dares to object, but I can see that many aren't happy with this decision that may appear like a show of weakness.

  "You're a sensible old man." I raise an eyebrow, knowing that this could very well be a trap. But nobody here knows what Fulanah and I are capable of, so I doubt they're prepared for two Cosmic Horrors.

  "I have lived a long life, after all." He stops to reply with a knowing nod. Maybe he does know what we are.

  "What about her?" Hestia opens her wings to reveal Malika and asks me just as I was about to take my first step to follow the Grand Shaman. The sultanah seems to have lost her will to struggle and is just standing there with a brooding gaze.

  "Come here." I extend my hand to her and say. When she doesn't react, the angel girl thrusts her forward, causing her to stumble into my arms. Finally, she regains her fighting spirit and tries to push me away, unable to do so with her weak body. "This may be an opportunity for you."

  "To do what?" She snaps at me.

  "To change things around here." I reply in a whisper for her ears only. Then I look back to Fulanah. "Leave the door. We're going."

  "I hope that's the right decision." My other half shrugs and follows me. I don't even need to tell Hestia since she wouldn't leave my side unless I specifically ask her to.

  "Hmm, Sultana Malika Zahra Al-Aziz." Ilham turns around to us when we enter the corridor at the back of the main hall and looks at her with inquisitive eyes. His mouth opens into a toothless grin filled with delight. "We meet at last."

  "Ilham Al-Hakam Karimi. Grand Shaman and leader of Al-Arruwa Altabahaqi. What could you want from this woman?" Malika replies in a spiteful tone, putting emphasis on the last word.

  "No woman just yet. Still only a girl." Laughing, the Grand Shaman continues to lead us through a long corridor while propped up by his two helpers. Said girl's jaw drops at this frivolous behavior toward her, but she bites her lip in her current impotence. "Please excuse me for locking myself up in these halls since your ascension to the throne."

  "You made your intentions of scorning me, a female on the throne of the sultanate, very clear." She states in irritation.

  "That was not my intention. I wanted to wait until you came of age to speak with you." Ilham explains as we begin to descend a flight of stairs.

  I spin my head around to look at my other half with searchlight-like eyes. So she did put her hands on a minor! The latter seems to realize what my glare signals and shakes her head, implying that she didn't know. Well, considering Malika has a harem full of girls that most definitely didn't form only after Fulanah arrived, she's an adult at heart.

  "This unforeseen situation has expedited the time of our meeting, though." The old man continues. "Even I could not so brazenly stand against the laws of our nation, much less for a young girl."

  "Laws are written by those in power." I interject.

  "And I am not one of them." He replies with a laugh. "I am just a man."

  "What have you to fear?" Malika asks with a frown. "You are the most powerful shaman that has ever lived."

  "I am still only human. And humans cannot live without food and sleep." Ilham's smile fades as he states this truth with an almost sad undertone.

  "Says someone who has been fasting for four harvesting seasons." I would have said 'summers' as the phrase for years goes in the Kingdom of Lares, but I doubt this nation even has a concept of other seasons.

  "Hahahaha!" He stops and laughs heartily. Then he continues while smiling more to himself than directed at us. "But I do sleep."

  I peer down at the scars on my arm. Eating is a different matter, but I've gone without sleep for over a week now. What does that make me? Well, I know the answer to that, and it does scare me a little to know that my mind is no longer human either.

  "Are you saying that people in high positions would have killed you for supporting me?" The sultanah inquires with a skeptical expression. "Who would dare kill the Grand Shaman?"

  "For the right reason or the right price, even beggars will dare to kill a god. Or die trying." Ilham turns to face us and states with a tired expression. He clearly isn't just a monk who was secluded for all his life; he knows how the world out there works. "Young sultanah, your harem of girls may provide you with distraction, but it has blinded you to the situation at the court."

  "What do you mean?" Malika's tone is low and menacing. She doesn't appreciate the seemingly condescending tone of the old man.

  "Who was it that provided those girls to you?" He asks without turning his head. Even I can tell what he's implying, and the sultanah isn't a fool either.

  "Are you saying that the court officials have usurped the throne?" With an unbelieving mutter, she slows down, causing Fulanah to bump into her from behind.

  "All but, young sultanah." The Grand Shaman says when we reach a dead end, where he places his hand on a wall covered in hieroglyphic inscriptions. Just like those in the hall above us, they don't resemble the written language of this nation, so it must belong to the ancient civilization that also built the pyramid. A wave of light runs across them, and the ground rumbles as the wall parts.

  A large circular room opens before us with a familiar platform in the middle. I walk past Ilham and cover the two steps leading up to it in one hop, to gain certainty that this is a transportation circle.

  The runes were scraped away, and the ground smashed into pieces so that it can no longer be used. It's in line with what Malika told me. And now that I've seen proof of it happening to one of them, I can believe that they really did this all across the Khurut Sultanate after Maou-mama's invasion thirty years ago. She used it to transport her forces across the vast distance that separates the Dominion and the sultanate unhindered.

  "Damn it." I stomp on the ground and crack the stone further. Breathing in and out a few times, I calm down and turn around. "Well, thank you for letting me confirm this. There's nothing left for us to do in this city, so we'll be leaving."

  "Just like this?" Malika asks in disbelief.

  "Yes, just like this." I wave at Hestia and Fulanah to follow me and walk toward the doorway we came in from. But then I realize something and spin around on the spot. "Actually, there's one thing."

  The sultana flinches, thinking I changed my mind about burning down this city in retaliation for not getting what I wanted.

  "Do you have a map of transportation network locations across the world, and more importantly, pictures of the circles?" I address Ilham and ignore Malika's somewhat endearing effort to keep a poker face.

  "Hum. We do not keep any scriptures. Our knowledge is transmitted orally across generations." On the other hand, the old man doesn't have a hint of tension in his voice. He strokes his beard in a fashion that reminds me of Thorvald. It seems that wizened leaders of magic institutions share this kind of carefree attitude even when facing a potentially dangerous demon.

  But I know from the principal of the Royal Academy never to underestimate humans again.

  "What happens when people forget?" I'm actually quite curious about the answer to this question. Valuable knowledge could get lost this way only because somebody died without passing it on.

  "Then it is what the gods want." Ilham replies in apparent resignation. Either he knows for a fact, or he truly believes that, but I don't really care for pursuing the matter right now.

  "It was enlightening talking to you." I remark sarcastically and turn to leave.

  "Wait." The old man stops me. "There is a secret passageway you can use to leave the city unhindered. My aides will show you the way."

  "Why would you do this?" It's not much of a mystery why; he doesn't want me to force my way through the monks and soldiers waiting outside. I showed no intentions to pull Malika along this time, so I won't have a hostage valuable enough to keep them away from me.


  "So that we have some time to discuss things before the royal guard realizes that they no longer need to keep their distance." With a sideward glance to the sultanah, Ilham replies. I didn't even consider that this could be a reason.

  "Hope things work out for you. Bye." With this unceremonious farewell, I turn away and follow the two young monks out of the transportation circle room. Hestia grabs my arm and walks with me.

  Fulanah is hesitating, looking at Malika as she's standing beside Ilham. The petite girl reciprocates the gaze before she closes her eyes and shakes her head. Turning away wordlessly, she signals my other half that they have nothing else to talk about.

  I feel a little sorry for them. Before I came along, they seem to have had a pretty good relationship together. But Fulanah would have never learned the truth about herself, and Malika may have found out that the court officials are planning a coup too late to prevent it.

  "Are you coming?" I pause in my step and ask without turning around. It's entirely up to her whether to come with me or try returning to the harem. But I know myself, and this is a purely rhetorical question.

  "Goodbye, Malika." I hear my own voice say behind me, and then footsteps approaching. "Of course, I'm coming. Who do you think I am?"

  "Don't inflate the worth of that phrase." Both of me say in unison, as my other half reaches my side. She then continues alone. "I know what you were going to say, and I agree. But what better time than this to say it?"

  We silently follow the monks through the dark corridor, and I hold out my fist. She bumps it wordlessly, and I smile to myself, knowing that she's doing the same.

  Chapter 59 - Memories In The Dark

  Ilham's aides, uncomfortable as they may look while doing so, silently and diligently lead the four of us through the labyrinthine underground of the Qaat Al-Arruwa. We've ascended and descended several flights of stairs, and at this point, we should be deeper below the surface than where we started.