The Twin Sorcerers

by Der Nogard

  “Go,” said the dragon Emine to the lady. “Leave this place and return to the land of Men.“

  Chapter Eight

  Ghazan found the prince hunting blackbuck on a high plateau that sloped down from a range of sharp hills. The land was so elevated here that the prince believed he could see all the way into the lands of the Banu Yunus and the open desert. It was cold as night had come quickly. It was not a good time to hunt, Ghazan knew. Hunting was one of the favored pastimes of his people, especially the royal class, and Ghazan knew that morning was the best time to hunt blackbuck, but this particular prince of the Yinisar was said to hunt all day. Ghazan had been led to this noble endeavor when he and Xenia reached the camp and he was happy to join the chase.

  The men hunted with bow and arrow, the old-fashioned kind. The warriors did not utilize the rapid-fire crossbow that had become the rage among the princes and dukes of the Western continent. Ghazan had been handed one of the Yinisir bows and arrows when he joined the chase, and their way of shooting arrows while galloping the prince found to be exhilarating. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

  The moon was high in the heavens when Ghazan finally had a chance to speak to the prince.

  “I think I might fancu living in your lands,” said Ghazan.

  The foreign prince only laughed then. Later, Ghazan sat with the prince and his deputies around a roaring fire.

  “You might have to live among us if you do not get your kingdom back,” said the foreign prince. “I see you return without the lance.”

  Ghazan lowered his head. He sighed.

  “We found the mountain,” Ghazan began. “We even found the dragon. But alas, no lance of Ogedeyir.”

  “Was the dragon in shevar?” asked the man, gazing intently into Ghazan’s eyes. This look made it clear that if the dragon was in shevar he would like to hear all about it.

  “No,” said Ghazan. “She was the largest thing I had ever seen. She occupied the inside of the mountain. It was a truly strange thing. She told us that the lance had been taken long ago and she did not where it was. She was too old to be in shevar. I heard from others that this Emine has been upon this planet more than three thousand years.”

  “Well, I cannot help you then,” said the foreign prince. “I do not know what I shall tell my father. We shall have to find another way to settle the matter between him and the other claimants to our ancestral crown. Perhaps we should go to the turbe of my grandfather. Pray to his spirit for guidance.”

  Foreign as this practice was to Ghazan, it seemed a sensible thing to do. They would sit there the remainder of the night, these two princes. Though they could scarcely understand each other because of their different languages and customs, between them was the bond of princes: a bond that told them that life was as sordid as it was good. That those things one possessed one day one might not possess the next, even one’s own life.

  And so Xenia was left alone in a tent that had been set aside for her and Ghazan. There were two beds, one beside the other, which Xenia had pushed close together until they touched. The lady’s perception on things had changed. Though she wondered if the universal book upon which all events were written spoke of a union between her and Ghazan, she was ready to be his wife. She did not care that he was a prince without a kingdom, she did not even care about their poverty. When she had lived in the sea, all she had known was poverty, but it was a penury that was more wonderful than anything that could be had on land. Was that where I came from? she wondered. The sea?

  She closed her eyes and fell to slumber. She felt the heat of Ghazan beside her though he was not in the tent. She could even feel the heat of Dost though he might be on the other side of the world. She did not know where he was or even if he still lived. Xenia felt that matters were drawing to a rapid close. Something would happen soon, she knew it. Her heart began to pound. She saw images of domed cities collapsing into the dust, of dragons dying one after another sending earthquakes to all corners of the world.

  She heard as the door flap of the tent was drawn open. Among the carpets lining the wall and the beautiful hangings of wool and silk that characterized these nomadic and semi-nomadic peoples, a woman appeared. She wore the head covering that was characteristic of this tribal people. It was like a blanket thrown over the head that had a square cut in the center for the face to peak through. This square was embroidered, framing delicately the beautiful face of the woman. This woman neared Xenia’s bed. “Get up,” she said. “Get up now! Can you not see them?”

  Xenia sat up in the bed. “Who?” she asked.

  “The men,” said the tribal woman. “The men fighting over you.”

  Xenia threw her legs over the edge of the bed. She put on her slippers and fixed her veil so that it covered her mouth. “Look,” said the woman. “Here they come now.” The women held open the flap into the tent and several dozen fireflies flew in. Two of the four oil lamps lit in the tent went out and suddenly Xenia could see the rapid flash of the fireflies as they soon came to occupy the inside of the tent. It was not long before Xenia had the urge to touch one of these insects. She followed the flicker of the fireflies; she ran to one and attempted to clasp it between her hands, but it was soon gone. She went to another firefly. This one was large and did not flitter as rapidly. Xenia waited for it to react to her being so near, and after it had done so, she reached forward with a finger and touched it. Suddenly the firefly was gone and there was a dragon in its place. Xenia ran to another firefly and completed the same act: touching her finger to the insect. This firefly too disappeared only to be replaced by a dragon. They were young sand dragons, like the one said to occupy the foot of the sultan’s throne, and they were in shevar.

  Xenia gasped.

  “This is ridiculous,” she could hear the voice of Prince Ghazan saying. “They are dragons and dragons are meant for slaying!”

  “No,” said another man’s voice, a deep voice that Xenia recognized only from dreams.

  Suddenly the dragons were gone and all the lamps in the tent went out. Where the tribal woman went Xenia could not say. All in the tent was quiet and still. But in the near darkness, Xenia could see a black figure. It was like a deeper black in the blackness of the tent. As she neared it, Xenia could see that it was a voluminous cloak, but no one was within it. “Come closer,” said the man’s voice, and Xenia did as she was bidden. She approached the cloak closer and closer. The cloak spread wide until it seemed to envelop the space around her. “Come closer, closer,” said the deep voice of the man. Xenia stepped into the darkness of the cloak and her vision went back.

  When she opened her eyes again she was in the zenanah of the sultan’s palace, only it did not have the appearance of that feminine cloister. The walls were covered in black, the pools of water were devoid of their moisture, and all was dark and deserted. Xenia passed through the empty zenanah, making for that small, but comfortable chamber that been appointed for her. When she reached her chamber, which was on the mezzanine of the zenanah, against the furthest wall of the palace, Xenia pushed the door open and walked in. She found her low couch, covered in black cloth, and the grated window that overlooked the alley of the palace below.

  But she saw that there was a man lying upon her couch, a man wearing a twisted crown of human bones. His face was gaunt and his eyes were of an indeterminate color. Xenia went to the couch and took a place beside him. Only moments later, a second man entered the room: a man identical to the first. He too wore a high, sinister crown. He wore black voluminous robbed that seemed to blow behind him like the malign flags of a rampaging army. The couch, made large enough only for a woman and the sultan, widened in size until it was large enough to fit three. The second man came to the bed and lay on the other side leaving Xenia hemmed in between them. The men laughed a sinister guffaw, a chuckle that waltzed and waltzed until it occupied the room. Xenia could feel the heat of them, hemming her in, a sensation of headiness and nearness that the laughter seemed only to accentuat
e. She lay flat on the bed and she moaned: deciding the best course was to surrender.

  “It is always better to join rather than fight,” said Dir-en-Shad.

  “We speak with dragon-breath and all that is left for you is to obey,” said Alamgul.

  Xenia heard these voices from either side of her, not knowing which of the identical men was Dir-en-Shad and which was Alamgul. Am I truly here? she wondered. Is this a dream?

  She felt a strong, pallid hand reach for her veil. She felt a muscular finger touch her face. “No!” she said in a loud whisper. “Yes!” said a man, but was it Alamgul or Dir-en-Shad? She watched as the veil was torn from her face and tossed to the ground. She felt a kiss upon one cheek and another kiss upon the other. She felt the warm touch of a man’s mouth on either side of her face. She surrendered.

  When Ghazan returned to his tent after an evening of hunting blackbuck with the prince of the Yinisar he found a deep impression in the bed of his lady companion. He saw intricate carpet hangings torn from their perch and oil lamps overturned, but he did not find any woman. She was gone without a trace.

  Chapter Nine

  It was an odd homecoming when Dost returned to the palace of the sultan of Maler. The great halls of gold were free of the Emirs, Wazirs, and Chamberlains that had characterized the home of the old sultan. The high towers with their green domes were free of the laughter of the servants and eunuchs. The zenanah remained where it was, but there could not be heard the music of the women or their idle chatter.

  Dost listened to the clack of heels upon the marble surfaces: it was the clack of his own boots as he was taken to see Dir-en-Shad. Every man that he met was dressed in black, the lances they held topped by the black and white flag of Dir-en-Shad’s religion. The faces of Dir-en-Shad’s servants still held onto a bit of their sinister gleam, though what Dost found in their eyes was not malign thought, but sadness. He did not know what it meant.

  When Dost found the dark lord, he still sat upon the sultan’s throne. “Ah, Azag-al-Walaq,” he said. “I see that you have returned.”

  “I have had a long journey.”

  The dragon Touman, the pet of Dir-en-Shad, raised its sandy head and made a low growl at Dost, just as a dog growls at someone it dislikes, but then the beast lowered its head again and closed its eyes.

  “Yes,” said Dir-en-Shad. “I know something of it.”

  “I am sure you know it all.”

  Dost came close to the dais where the dragon was. He was surrounded by Dir-en-Shad’s many servants and followers, though the warlord could see that there were still some women in the palace. A few of the sultan’s women were ranged along the upper story of the throne hall, looking through the grate at what transpired below. That was when Dost did something unexpected. He removed his two azags and placed them upon the ground. He removed his kujala and placed this too upon the ground. Finally, the unthinkable: Dost got down upon his knees and prostrated himself, lowering his body all the way down to the floor until his head touched the cold marble.

  “I have come to serve you,” Dost said. “I traveled to the halls of the dark lord Malatu…”

  “This I know,” said Dir-en-Shad.

  “I traveled to these dark places, searching for the meaning in my life as I have none,” said Dost. “The dark lord told me that I must seek a good master to serve, only then can I make a path for myself in the world. A mighty woman called me a rabid dog and though these words might have slighted me, they were true. I am a rabid dog, searching only for the right master to serve until the end of my days. Once, what seems like long ago, a man asked me if I would serve him as his apprentice. His name was Alamgul. I do not know if you are Alamgul or his brother, but I would serve this religion that you profess. I have seen the strength that it gives to its adherents. You were able to accomplish the deed of slaying the sultan, something which I was never able to accomplish. And so I offer my services to you Dir-en-Shad or Alamgul, whichever the twain you may be. You have done the deed I have failed to do, and I would have you as my master.”

  “Dir-en-Shad,” said the lord of the palace, standing up from his throne. “Or Alamgul.” The man laughed. “So you would serve me. This does not surprise as it was written upon that universal book of deeds past and present that I am able to read. I knew that you would come soon. Come, young man, and walk with me. I would discuss this matter further.”

  The dragon snorted at Dost again, but Dir-en-Shad petted the beast and quieted him. Of the various sorts of dragons, the ones that were cruel and the ones that were kind, this particular specimen was not of the kinder variety. When he went into shevar, the dragon rage that reduced great cities into dust, it was a sight to behold.

  Dost walked with Dir-en-Shad, eventually coming to the chamber where the dark lord had slain the sultan. “Do you remember this place?” the man asked.

  “How can I forget, my lord,” said Dost. “This was when I first learned to respect you, to fear you, though I did not know it yet.”

  “I will not ask what Malatu said to you. They were for your ears alone.”

  “Yes,” said Dost.

  They soon came to the hall onto which the zenanah opened. Xenia was standing just inside the grate door, alone. She raised her hand to the door when she saw Dost walk past though he pretended not to see. She ran from the door after that, ashamed of something only she knew.

  Dir-en-Shad led Dost to a balcony that overlooked the courtyard in front of the palace. Dost told his master that he had searched the world for meaning, but had been unable to find any anywhere. That was when a commotion was heard. Several men managed to burst through the gate into the inner court of the sultan’s palace. These men ran forward until they were standing below the balcony. Dir-en-Shad recognized the face of Ghazan. The new lord of the palace seemed alarmed.

  “This was not writ on that mighty book,” he whispered, but it was loud enough for Dost to hear all the same.

  Ghazan was joined by men that Dost recognized to be pirates from the port city of Damat. They were a scraggly lot even if they accompanied a prince. Soon, several men raced out of the palace to meet them. Before these men reached the prince, he hurled a heavy javelin with all his might to the balcony. It missed its mark, crashing into the stone wall with a heavy slam. The entire palace seemed to gasp in alarm, as if the building itself spoke in one voice. An armed eunuch ran forward to aid Dir-en-Shad, and before anyone knew what was happening, Dost was pulling the man’s scimitar out of its scabbard. Dir-en-Shad saw the sunlight glint off the Damatian steel and he instantly crept back, away from Dost, but it was too late. Dost swept at Dir-en-Shad, leaving the mark of the scimitar upon his brow. Dir-en-Shad fell to the ground and a second later felt another blow: that of a second javelin slamming into his chest.

  Events seemed to pass in a flash and Dir-en-Shad’s cape reared up until all of the balcony was enveloped in black. Dost used his arms to swing at the folds of the cape, finally swiping it away until the scene was clear. There was a crown upon the floor of the balcony and dark ornaments, but no Dir-en-Shad. Suddenly there was a mighty roar, the cry of the dragon, and Ghazan yelled: “Into the palace.”

  Ghazan and his men at arms ran into the palace and Dost did the same, though he had a different destination. Dost went to the zenanah, quickly dispatching the eunuch guard and taking the key from him. After the lock clicked, the door opened with a swing and Xenia flew out. The lady fell into the warrior’s arms and they ran the long way back to the throne hall, their ears ringing with the crack of the dragon’s roars. As they neared the hall, they were met with men in dark robes running the other way. They were the acolytes of Dir-en-Shad and they were casting the crowns and dark ornaments of their religion onto the ground, abandoning them forever and choosing life instead.

  When Dost reached the throne hall, he saw the dragon Touman thrashing about, sending dozens of men flying against the wall with simultaneous swings of his arms and his tail. The men who remained in the throne hall were fr
ozen in place, wondering what had happened to their lord and how they would escape the dragon. “He is there!” said Dost to Xenia, discovering to his utter amazement that Dir-en-Shad was not dead, but was moving across the upper halls of the palace like a disembodied shadow. This odd movement was a sight so ghastly that Xenia became afraid, feeling that she would rather be in the presence of the dragon than of this spirit.

  Dost was then left with the problem of what to do about the dragon, and deciding that he was not a lesser man than Ghazan, he deduced that he would have to slay it. He picked up a Randalkandi long sword from the ground and charged at the dragon, who was at that moment occupied elsewhere. He swiped at the dragon’s body, landing a heavy blow in its scales. But the dragon was wounded and it screeched. The creature swung its tail and sent Dost flying to a column.

  “Dost!” cried Xenia.

  The warrior mustered the strength to get up upon one arm, but by the time he had accomplished this act the dragon was already upon him again. The dragon made a running-fly to the other side of the throne hall and occupied the space all around Dost. The creature opened its mouth to breath its fire-breath. Just at that moment, a shout was heard at the entrance to the throne hall. It was Ghazan. As he was out of javelins, he took an overturned lamp pole from the ground and, with great difficulty, hurled it at the beast. The beast turned to face Ghazan just as he did this and the pole landed right in the dragon’s eye.

  The dragon reared up with such a rage that it crashed into the roof and the walls of the room began to cave in. The dragon, not dead but as full of life as ever, thrashed and thrashed and Ghazan thought that this was finally the end. But the prince felt when the warm air of Maler suddenly became cooler. He heard as the shouts and hums of the city suddenly fell into a hush. The prince turned to look to the south and saw that a dark figure raced toward the city. It was the dragon Emine and before she reached the innards of the sultan’s palace, she had opened her mouth and released the primordial flame that only a dragon of great age could emit. The flame touched Touman and, soundlessly, the dragon retreated back, crashing into the rear wall of the throne room. Emine lunged herself at her fellow dragon and Ghazan watched in amazement as the two great creatures clashed, crushing beneath them any person who was not quick enough to flee.