barsoomcore
Unattainable Ideal
Exactly. If Natalie Portman was a six-foot-tall Chinese sex bomb made out of alabaster.shilsen said:
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barsoomcore
Unattainable Ideal
Another Fine Mess: 11
Only Etienne and Arrafin had not yet asked their questions. Arrafin was still reeling from Madame Yuek's sinister grin, so the half-Kishak stepped forward.
"Madame Yuek. My question is not very clever, I'm afraid, but I'm not much for strategy or grand schemes. Why are you helping us?"
An alabaster hand drooped to stroke the hair of the young girl by the throne. Isaac fumed with unformed anger as the girl sighed in pleasure and arced up to meet the petting hand like a dog enthralled with its master.
The vampire shrugged.
"We could make a lot pretty speeches about what a great lady we are, but why should we? You know something of what we are, but allow us to be perfectly clear. We are a monster. We devour the living."
Her dark eyes blazed with angry power as her voice echoed and grew heavy in the air around them.
"We make no apologies for this fact. We offer no justifications. But we promise you this: we will never lie to you.
"Why are we helping you? First, because we said we would. We keep our word. Second, because we believe you might be useful to us."
Isaac spat in righteous anger. Something about this smug creature sitting in glamour and perfection amongst the collapsed stones of this ruined castle infuriated him.
"So you're just using us?"
A perfectly etched eyebrow rose minutely.
"Of course. Aren't you just using us?"
"No."
"Well then, it seems the difference between us is immense."
"You got that right."
"We do not lie to ourself about our own motives."
As Isaac sputtered, Madame Yuek, smirking, turned back to Arrafin.
"Now, my dear. You have not yet asked us a question."
She spread her hands.
"You may ask anything of us, Arrafin. Anything at all."
Arrafin considered, her sharp mind racing. Before her sat unthinkable opportunity. An immortal being who had seen who knew how many thousands of years. A sorceress of unimaginable power. The most beautiful woman Arrafin had ever seen.
"First of all, spells. I have one new spell, but -- "
A gesture from Madame Yuek silenced the Naridic girl. Kani shuffled forward and dropped a set of scrolls on the dusty flagstones at Arrafin's feet. Arrafin frowned at the Lohanese girl's dramatic sulk, but forgot about that as Madame Yuek explained the gift.
"Upon these papers we have provided you with the formulae for a number of spells you may find useful. And, we dare to hope, not too dangerous."
Arrafin squatted and scrabbled up the scrolls, Gral teetering dangerously on her shoulder. The parchment rolls stuck awkwardly from her arms as she straightened up.
She stared at the beautiful creature smiling down from her throne. For long, long seconds she just stared. Madame Yuek seemed like some kind of bizarre eldritch queen, unearthly in her perfection. Like how some ancient stories described angels. Arrafin realised, with a shock, that this creature must have once been a woman.
"Who are you, Madame Yuek? Who did you use to be and how did you become this?"
The back wall of the throne room exploded.
*****
The staring between Arrafin and Madame Yuek unnerved Isaac greatly. The last thing he wanted to deal with was some sort of showdown between this immensely powerful witch-vampire-thing and a young girl he'd grown fond of. He was about to speak, to try and distract Arrafin from whatever unwise direction her thoughts were heading, when she spoke and then everything disappeared in a deafening blast of stone and flame.
The ground shook as massive blocks of granite crashed into the debris-strewn floor. Dust and chunks of rock blew into the air on all sides. Isaac fell to his knees, certain that the world had just come to a spectacular end.
More flashes of flame and distant shrieks brought his attention up again.
The back wall of the throne room had disappeared, leaving the entire hall open to the chill mountain air. Upon the dais now exposed to the elements a wild battle raged.
Madame Yuek stood with her arms outstretched, black fire pouring from her in rippling waves. Two of her guardians were gone, torn apart by some force Isaac could not imagine. The other two fought in a tremendous melee against a small host of black-clad figures who surrounded the most bizarre character Isaac had yet seen.
An immense mechanical array of clacking limbs, cables and claws now stood next to where the ruined chunks of Madame Yuek's throne lay. Isaac stood, amazed to see what appeared to be an elderly Lohanese man seated in the middle of this incredible contraption.
Flames of all colours roared across the dais, searing stone, tearing minions to gory shreds and thickening the air itself with foulness. Madame Yuek and this interloper hurled freaks of supernatural fury at each other. As Isaac watched, Madame Yuek's baroque robe unfolded itself, reaching out like a living thing with crimson tentacles.
More creatures poured into the room, some simply erupting from the floor, clawing through solid stone.
A hand grabbed Isaac's arm. He turned to find that Lohanese woman, Kani.
"You must leave now! All of you! She asked me to take you to safety! Come!"
She tried to drag Isaac. He saw Elena helping Arrafin, and Etienne getting to his feet further back in the room. Nevid was nowhere to be seen.
"Wait, wait. Where's Nevid?"
Elena whirled and pointed back where the battle continued to tear apart the room.
"He's gotten brave again."
*****
They needed allies. The del Maraviez had nothing in this strange dreamlike world of sorcery. Nevid hated it, hated its irrationality and hated how it mocked his understanding of the world, but it existed. Sorcery was real. It was a world of its own.
And they needed allies in this world.
Nevid wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing. But he'd heard rumours Matai Shang was some sort of machine/man construct. And whoever this newcomer was, he was clearly an enemy of Madame Yuek.
Who at the least had kept her word to them. And not killed them.
Nevid was never quite sure what he was thinking at times like these. He hefted the staff in his hand. Nobody was paying any attention to him as he got to his feet at the base of the dais steps. Directly above him, wild sorcery exploded in violent waves around mechanical arms and legs.
He charged into the midst of those arms and legs. The elderly man sitting amongst them paid him no attention. Nevid raised his staff high over his head and, teetering in the midst of rattling mechanisms and concussing sorceries, brought the weapon down with all his strength.
The staff bounced back, nearly coming free from his hands with its unexpected reversal. The elderly man didn't appear to even know Nevid was there.
Unhappily Nevid tried again and again, bashing his weapon furiously against the old man, but some invisible field seemed to hold him back.
A heavy arm wrapped around him and dragged him backwards. Nevid struggled for a second but then Isaac howled in his ear.
"What do you think you're doing, Nevid? We have to go!"
"He's got some kind of magic protection."
"You think?"
Etienne and Elena had their weapons out and were duelling madly with a pair of Shang's black-clad minions. Arrafin pulled the trigger on her pistol and staggered backwards from the recoil.
Screams tore the air. The entire room shook and thick cracks began expanding across the floor. The world tilted, crazy and deafening. Elena saw Isaac coming with Nevid and grabbed Etienne.
"Let's go. This whole place is going to collapse!"
Still arcane explosions and shrieking walls of flame erupted behind them as they scrambled up the now-tilting floor. Etienne helped Isaac with Nevid as they rushed from the room. Isaac saw the massive black sword they'd brought begin to slid across the flagstones and snagged it with one hand.
The entire castle shook. A huge cloud of dust billowed out from the archway behind them. Kani rushed forward, but Elena caught her. The Lohanese woman shrieked incomprehensibly. For a second she sagged against Elena and then turned to face Arrafin. Her dark eyes blazed.
"She asked me to take you and your friends to safety. She wants you to be safe."
Etienne tried a wink. Her cranky countenance did not warm. Not even when she took the great sword from Isaac's hand.
"Where should I take you?"
Arrafin looked back at this woman's unreadable face.
We've torturing her since she was born.
"Al-Tizim? Can you take us to Al-Tizim?"
"First, take this. She wanted you to have it."
Kani held up a slender rod, no more than a handspan in length, made of some clear crystal.
"Break it, and she will come to you. Make sure you have good cause."
Arrafin reached out very carefully and took the rod from Kani's fingers.
"Al-Tizim. Take my hands."
Etienne pushed forward to take the young woman's right hand. Nevid came with him, then Elena and then Arrafin and finally Isaac, taking Kani's left hand. The Lohanese woman sneered at them all.
As the roaring fury of Shadow erupted around them, Arrafin thought about that sneer and some of the girl's earlier behaviour.
Kani is a dear girl, but you mustn't think her rational.
Screaming blackness enveloped them all.
Only Etienne and Arrafin had not yet asked their questions. Arrafin was still reeling from Madame Yuek's sinister grin, so the half-Kishak stepped forward.
"Madame Yuek. My question is not very clever, I'm afraid, but I'm not much for strategy or grand schemes. Why are you helping us?"
An alabaster hand drooped to stroke the hair of the young girl by the throne. Isaac fumed with unformed anger as the girl sighed in pleasure and arced up to meet the petting hand like a dog enthralled with its master.
The vampire shrugged.
"We could make a lot pretty speeches about what a great lady we are, but why should we? You know something of what we are, but allow us to be perfectly clear. We are a monster. We devour the living."
Her dark eyes blazed with angry power as her voice echoed and grew heavy in the air around them.
"We make no apologies for this fact. We offer no justifications. But we promise you this: we will never lie to you.
"Why are we helping you? First, because we said we would. We keep our word. Second, because we believe you might be useful to us."
Isaac spat in righteous anger. Something about this smug creature sitting in glamour and perfection amongst the collapsed stones of this ruined castle infuriated him.
"So you're just using us?"
A perfectly etched eyebrow rose minutely.
"Of course. Aren't you just using us?"
"No."
"Well then, it seems the difference between us is immense."
"You got that right."
"We do not lie to ourself about our own motives."
As Isaac sputtered, Madame Yuek, smirking, turned back to Arrafin.
"Now, my dear. You have not yet asked us a question."
She spread her hands.
"You may ask anything of us, Arrafin. Anything at all."
Arrafin considered, her sharp mind racing. Before her sat unthinkable opportunity. An immortal being who had seen who knew how many thousands of years. A sorceress of unimaginable power. The most beautiful woman Arrafin had ever seen.
"First of all, spells. I have one new spell, but -- "
A gesture from Madame Yuek silenced the Naridic girl. Kani shuffled forward and dropped a set of scrolls on the dusty flagstones at Arrafin's feet. Arrafin frowned at the Lohanese girl's dramatic sulk, but forgot about that as Madame Yuek explained the gift.
"Upon these papers we have provided you with the formulae for a number of spells you may find useful. And, we dare to hope, not too dangerous."
Arrafin squatted and scrabbled up the scrolls, Gral teetering dangerously on her shoulder. The parchment rolls stuck awkwardly from her arms as she straightened up.
She stared at the beautiful creature smiling down from her throne. For long, long seconds she just stared. Madame Yuek seemed like some kind of bizarre eldritch queen, unearthly in her perfection. Like how some ancient stories described angels. Arrafin realised, with a shock, that this creature must have once been a woman.
"Who are you, Madame Yuek? Who did you use to be and how did you become this?"
The back wall of the throne room exploded.
*****
The staring between Arrafin and Madame Yuek unnerved Isaac greatly. The last thing he wanted to deal with was some sort of showdown between this immensely powerful witch-vampire-thing and a young girl he'd grown fond of. He was about to speak, to try and distract Arrafin from whatever unwise direction her thoughts were heading, when she spoke and then everything disappeared in a deafening blast of stone and flame.
The ground shook as massive blocks of granite crashed into the debris-strewn floor. Dust and chunks of rock blew into the air on all sides. Isaac fell to his knees, certain that the world had just come to a spectacular end.
More flashes of flame and distant shrieks brought his attention up again.
The back wall of the throne room had disappeared, leaving the entire hall open to the chill mountain air. Upon the dais now exposed to the elements a wild battle raged.
Madame Yuek stood with her arms outstretched, black fire pouring from her in rippling waves. Two of her guardians were gone, torn apart by some force Isaac could not imagine. The other two fought in a tremendous melee against a small host of black-clad figures who surrounded the most bizarre character Isaac had yet seen.
An immense mechanical array of clacking limbs, cables and claws now stood next to where the ruined chunks of Madame Yuek's throne lay. Isaac stood, amazed to see what appeared to be an elderly Lohanese man seated in the middle of this incredible contraption.
Flames of all colours roared across the dais, searing stone, tearing minions to gory shreds and thickening the air itself with foulness. Madame Yuek and this interloper hurled freaks of supernatural fury at each other. As Isaac watched, Madame Yuek's baroque robe unfolded itself, reaching out like a living thing with crimson tentacles.
More creatures poured into the room, some simply erupting from the floor, clawing through solid stone.
A hand grabbed Isaac's arm. He turned to find that Lohanese woman, Kani.
"You must leave now! All of you! She asked me to take you to safety! Come!"
She tried to drag Isaac. He saw Elena helping Arrafin, and Etienne getting to his feet further back in the room. Nevid was nowhere to be seen.
"Wait, wait. Where's Nevid?"
Elena whirled and pointed back where the battle continued to tear apart the room.
"He's gotten brave again."
*****
They needed allies. The del Maraviez had nothing in this strange dreamlike world of sorcery. Nevid hated it, hated its irrationality and hated how it mocked his understanding of the world, but it existed. Sorcery was real. It was a world of its own.
And they needed allies in this world.
Nevid wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing. But he'd heard rumours Matai Shang was some sort of machine/man construct. And whoever this newcomer was, he was clearly an enemy of Madame Yuek.
Who at the least had kept her word to them. And not killed them.
Nevid was never quite sure what he was thinking at times like these. He hefted the staff in his hand. Nobody was paying any attention to him as he got to his feet at the base of the dais steps. Directly above him, wild sorcery exploded in violent waves around mechanical arms and legs.
He charged into the midst of those arms and legs. The elderly man sitting amongst them paid him no attention. Nevid raised his staff high over his head and, teetering in the midst of rattling mechanisms and concussing sorceries, brought the weapon down with all his strength.
The staff bounced back, nearly coming free from his hands with its unexpected reversal. The elderly man didn't appear to even know Nevid was there.
Unhappily Nevid tried again and again, bashing his weapon furiously against the old man, but some invisible field seemed to hold him back.
A heavy arm wrapped around him and dragged him backwards. Nevid struggled for a second but then Isaac howled in his ear.
"What do you think you're doing, Nevid? We have to go!"
"He's got some kind of magic protection."
"You think?"
Etienne and Elena had their weapons out and were duelling madly with a pair of Shang's black-clad minions. Arrafin pulled the trigger on her pistol and staggered backwards from the recoil.
Screams tore the air. The entire room shook and thick cracks began expanding across the floor. The world tilted, crazy and deafening. Elena saw Isaac coming with Nevid and grabbed Etienne.
"Let's go. This whole place is going to collapse!"
Still arcane explosions and shrieking walls of flame erupted behind them as they scrambled up the now-tilting floor. Etienne helped Isaac with Nevid as they rushed from the room. Isaac saw the massive black sword they'd brought begin to slid across the flagstones and snagged it with one hand.
The entire castle shook. A huge cloud of dust billowed out from the archway behind them. Kani rushed forward, but Elena caught her. The Lohanese woman shrieked incomprehensibly. For a second she sagged against Elena and then turned to face Arrafin. Her dark eyes blazed.
"She asked me to take you and your friends to safety. She wants you to be safe."
Etienne tried a wink. Her cranky countenance did not warm. Not even when she took the great sword from Isaac's hand.
"Where should I take you?"
Arrafin looked back at this woman's unreadable face.
We've torturing her since she was born.
"Al-Tizim? Can you take us to Al-Tizim?"
"First, take this. She wanted you to have it."
Kani held up a slender rod, no more than a handspan in length, made of some clear crystal.
"Break it, and she will come to you. Make sure you have good cause."
Arrafin reached out very carefully and took the rod from Kani's fingers.
"Al-Tizim. Take my hands."
Etienne pushed forward to take the young woman's right hand. Nevid came with him, then Elena and then Arrafin and finally Isaac, taking Kani's left hand. The Lohanese woman sneered at them all.
As the roaring fury of Shadow erupted around them, Arrafin thought about that sneer and some of the girl's earlier behaviour.
Kani is a dear girl, but you mustn't think her rational.
Screaming blackness enveloped them all.
Last edited:
barsoomcore
Unattainable Ideal
Another Fine Mess: 12
Isaac had already once experienced the dangers of letting go while travelling the terrifying reaches of the Shadow Realm. He determined to hang on tightly to his partners, Arrafin and Kani, as they rocketed through the howling shadowscape under the sorceress' guidance.
He was not prepared, however, for the sorceress simply letting go of him deliberately.
Suddenly his left hand flailed in wild helplessness. He felt his weight immediately pulling on Arrafin and tore his right hand free from her weak grasp. Better he should fall alone into darkness, or the ocean, than that he pull that girl with him into death.
Arrafin, for her part, suddenly realised Isaac was gone and, shrieking pointlessly into the howling gale of Shadow's edge, clung even more tightly to Elena. Elena hung on to Nevid who hung on to Etienne.
Who hung on to nothing. Seconds after shaking Isaac free, Kani had done the same to Etienne. The four friends had a few screaming seconds of plunging through a hurricane of blackness, and then brilliant sunlight stabbed into their eyes.
The four lay sprawled in variously awkward poses on a rough shelf of wind-stippled rock, listening to tiny rivulets of sand hiss through the thin stone channels beneath them.
The heat broiled them.
Elena sat up.
"What the hell?"
Etienne groaned.
"I always knew all that nonsense about Al-Tizim being a great city was crap. Look at this place. Not even a wall."
They looked around. Rocky cliffs rose up high in eroded canyons, their floors dusted with shifting layers of sand. The pink sky overhead revealed no clouds, no relief from the sun.
Arrafin stood up and smacked Etienne.
"Obviously this isn't Al-Tizim. And where's Kani?"
"And Isaac."
More looking. No sign of the burly Saijadan.
"Do you think? Maybe Kani? Did something?"
Nevid began walking across the canyon floor, away from the others. They watched him as he marched across the uneven sands until reaching the shadow of the high cliff wall. He stopped.
The other three at first waited for him to do something. Once they realised he was just standing in the shade, they joined him. Elena considered Arrafin's questions.
"She was looking at us kind of cranky-like. Well, at you, anyway. I think she was jealous."
"Jealous?"
"Well, her boss sure had a thing for you."
"What?"
"I said, her boss--"
"Whatever. The question is, where are we and what are we going to do?"
The desert offered no answers.
Etienne spoke up.
"Well, we must be somewhere between, uh, wherever we were and Al-Tizim, right? So we just keep going in whatever direction we were going in at first, and we'll reach Al-Tizim, right? That'll work."
Arrafin rolled her eyes.
"Sure. And what direction would that be?"
"Well."
Elena joined the debate while Etienne was formulating more of a comeback.
"I don't like to say this, as a rule, but maybe Etienne's got a point. We were in Shaer, right? So we must have been going west. Pretty much, right? Shaer's out at the east end of the Inner Sea, And Al-Tizim's about halfway along the south coast. So it must be somewhere to the west of us. We keep heading west, we'll find it."
Nevid did not look at the others as he spoke.
"Shaer is about two thousand miles from Al-Tizim. We might be months away. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I haven't got any water or food with me just now."
As the import of his words sank in to the others, he turned around to face them.
"We're all going to be dead in a few days."
Elena managed a shrug.
"Isaac's probably glad he's not with us, then."
Etienne
"What?"
"What?"
Etienne's confused expression only raised his friends' eyebrows. The halfbreed looked around slowly, but there was no obvious source for the voice that had so familiarly whispered his name.
Etienne, listen to me.
Elena frowned as Etienne raised a finger.
"Could you guys excuse me for a second?"
He walked a few paces away and stared down at the sand. After two or three breaths he raised his head and returned. He pointed.
"This way."
Nobody moved. Not even Gral.
"There's water this way. About eight hours' walk from here."
Still no movement.
"Come on."
Arrafin turned her head and regarded the little owl on her shoulder. The tiny bird launched itself into the air, spiraling upwards towards the pale pink sky high above.
The others watched it go in still silence. The bird flapped energetically, rising up and up until it was nearly lost from sight.
Arrafin nodded, then shook her head in amazement.
"There's a valley that way. He might be right."
Elena and Nevid both frowned. They turned to Etienne.
"Don't ask."
Elena considered that, then shook her head.
"Nuh-uh. What the hell, Etienne? What is this? How are you suddenly an expert on desert survival? You told us you'd never left Pavairelle before."
"I, uh. I. Look, let's just go. We need the water, right? Not dying, that's good, right? Right?"
Elena walked up to the half-Kishak and shoved him back.
"Who are you working for? Who's in that half-empty head of yours?"
Etienne stumbled back but made no answer. He and Elena stared at each other, and then the slender Pavairellean youth shrugged.
"Fine. Stay here and die of thirst. Me, I'm going where the water is. Any of you want to come, you're welcome."
Anger set in his broad shoulders, the young man strode off up the canyon. The others watched him go.
Arrafin clucked at Gral as the little owl returned to her, then looked over at Elena.
"Why would you think he'd be the only one of us without a bunch of ugly secrets? Anyway, I'm thirsty."
She followed Etienne. Elena glared at Nevid but the Saijadani youth had no response. He lowered his head and set out after Arrafin and Etienne. Elena watched them go, fighting back anger. At length, as her friends rounded a shoulder of towering, wind-scoured rock, she marched forward, the same direction they had gone.
*****
Zuleika tried not to be happy the soldiers had started on her sister. Shalia hadn't stopped weeping since they'd gotten away, but Zuleika knew that if Hamman hadn't pulled his trick when he did, those soldiers would have turned on her next.
And now it looked like it was only a matter of time. Hamman was bleeding badly and no matter what Shalia said, her husband wasn't going to make it another day. The little boys, clinging to one another on their gallo behind the adults, hadn't spoken since yesterday morning.
Since the Crimson Host had descended on their farm and slaughtered the hands, fired the buildings and butchered poor, beautiful, courageous Maheem. Her young husband. Zuleika couldn't let herself think about him. She could recall Shalia's screams, but her mind skipped around Maheem's last moments.
For about an hour Zuleika had been hopeful those beni Howetait bastards had decided not to follow them, but she'd seen their figures silhouetted against the setting sun last night, and she was sure they were still back there. Probably closing fast and preparing a morning ambush as the sun came up today.
The lean Naridic woman checked the scimitar at her belt. Hamman was in no shape to fight, and Shalia had never held a sword in her life, but Zuleika had served two tours in the Sultan's army and could hold her own. Not that it would make any difference against the four or five beni Howetait warriors she knew where getting ready to sweep down on their little band.
She would not suffer the fate Shalia had. Those bastards would have to kill her.
The sun was rising straight ahead. The ridges of the river valley to either side of the shone with lurid radiance. Zuleika began a prayer to Mullah but halted half-way through, frowning. Her keen eyes caught a set of figures upon the northern ridge, four standing figures that even at this distance were clearly not beni Howetait warriors.
Before she could consider that mystery, sudden uluations erupted all around their little party as the beni Howetait came rushing up behind them. Shalia screamed as Zuleika wheeled her mount and charged their attackers. She plowed through their midst, swinging wildly and howling as her blade connected solidly against one rider's midsection. Her exultation dropped away as she felt hot wetness against her arm and knew she'd been hit as well. She tried to turn her gallo but her left arm fell senseless and all she could do was turn in her seat, swearing as she watched the savage desert madmen descend on her family.
Hamman revived enough to lash the boys' gallo, and the startled beast lunged forward, passing he and Shalia just as the raiders arrived.
It took a second. Not even a heartbeat.
Hamman threw up an arm. A sabre flashed, cutting straight through. Another and Zuleika's brother-in-law convulsed, toppling from his saddle in a spray of blood and organs. Shalia shrieked as a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her from her mount.
And then the children began screaming.
Zuleika screamed as well and kicked her beast, urging it into the fray, unable to stand aside, when a series of gunshots rang out over the screams and triumphant yells. Zuleika looked up from her mad charge and saw to her astonishment a group of total strangers come running down the hillside to the slaughter. She reached the melee and screamed, waving her scimitar and riding for the one still dragging her little sister. A heavy blow caught her in the side, but Zuleika lashed out, nearly decapitating one of the warriors as she fell from her saddle. She could hear her own blood splashing onto the sand.
Shalia fell to the ground not far away, limp and with her head twisted unnaturally. Zuleika managed a moment of clarity to ask God to forgive her for being happy that her poor sister had suffered rather than she, and then darkness took her.
*****
"Now what? God, what a mess."
"This one's still alive. Get the skull, hurry."
"God. God. How can people do this to each other? They were children."
"The skull, Arrafin. Now."
"Yes, yes. Here. God."
Nevid squatted on a flat rock by the creek, watching blood swirl past in the clear water. His young face reflected back at him, set with tension and repressed emotion. He couldn't look back. He just stared at the blood of children floating past.
He was nineteen years old. He'd negotiated difficult contracts all across Saijadan. He'd witnessed duels and slaughter before. This was no worse.
He closed his eyes. A hand came down on his shoulder.
Of course it was Elena. Her dark eyes shone in the surface of the creek, rich with sympathy.
"Take this comfort, Nevid. We got them. We got all of them."
Nevid stood up, stepping away.
"We should have kept one alive. For questions. We don't know who they were, where they were from."
From behind him a quiet voice with a Naridic accent answered.
"They are from the Crimson Host. An army raised to fight the Kishaks."
He turned to find a striking Naridic woman, the lone survivor of the battle, sitting amidst slain bodies, with Etienne kneeling beside her.
Arrafin, packing the marble skull back into her bag, frowned.
"But you people aren't Kishaks."
"True. I guess there aren't any Kishaks around, so they have to kill somebody."
"But you're Naridic. You're the same people."
The woman's smile, when she turned it on Arrafin, was somehow the most horrible thing Nevid had seen all day.
"I guess I should have pointed that out to them. My fault."
"That's not what I -- "
Etienne stepped in to cut off Arrafin.
"That's enough, Arrafin. Let her rest."
He led the shattered woman towards the creek. She followed without words. Nevid cleared his throat as they approached.
"Where is the nearest town?"
"Tallal. It's a few days' ride. That way. Through the Crimson Host."
She smiled again at Arrafin.
"No doubt once you explain how we're all together there won't be any trouble."
Isaac had already once experienced the dangers of letting go while travelling the terrifying reaches of the Shadow Realm. He determined to hang on tightly to his partners, Arrafin and Kani, as they rocketed through the howling shadowscape under the sorceress' guidance.
He was not prepared, however, for the sorceress simply letting go of him deliberately.
Suddenly his left hand flailed in wild helplessness. He felt his weight immediately pulling on Arrafin and tore his right hand free from her weak grasp. Better he should fall alone into darkness, or the ocean, than that he pull that girl with him into death.
Arrafin, for her part, suddenly realised Isaac was gone and, shrieking pointlessly into the howling gale of Shadow's edge, clung even more tightly to Elena. Elena hung on to Nevid who hung on to Etienne.
Who hung on to nothing. Seconds after shaking Isaac free, Kani had done the same to Etienne. The four friends had a few screaming seconds of plunging through a hurricane of blackness, and then brilliant sunlight stabbed into their eyes.
The four lay sprawled in variously awkward poses on a rough shelf of wind-stippled rock, listening to tiny rivulets of sand hiss through the thin stone channels beneath them.
The heat broiled them.
Elena sat up.
"What the hell?"
Etienne groaned.
"I always knew all that nonsense about Al-Tizim being a great city was crap. Look at this place. Not even a wall."
They looked around. Rocky cliffs rose up high in eroded canyons, their floors dusted with shifting layers of sand. The pink sky overhead revealed no clouds, no relief from the sun.
Arrafin stood up and smacked Etienne.
"Obviously this isn't Al-Tizim. And where's Kani?"
"And Isaac."
More looking. No sign of the burly Saijadan.
"Do you think? Maybe Kani? Did something?"
Nevid began walking across the canyon floor, away from the others. They watched him as he marched across the uneven sands until reaching the shadow of the high cliff wall. He stopped.
The other three at first waited for him to do something. Once they realised he was just standing in the shade, they joined him. Elena considered Arrafin's questions.
"She was looking at us kind of cranky-like. Well, at you, anyway. I think she was jealous."
"Jealous?"
"Well, her boss sure had a thing for you."
"What?"
"I said, her boss--"
"Whatever. The question is, where are we and what are we going to do?"
The desert offered no answers.
Etienne spoke up.
"Well, we must be somewhere between, uh, wherever we were and Al-Tizim, right? So we just keep going in whatever direction we were going in at first, and we'll reach Al-Tizim, right? That'll work."
Arrafin rolled her eyes.
"Sure. And what direction would that be?"
"Well."
Elena joined the debate while Etienne was formulating more of a comeback.
"I don't like to say this, as a rule, but maybe Etienne's got a point. We were in Shaer, right? So we must have been going west. Pretty much, right? Shaer's out at the east end of the Inner Sea, And Al-Tizim's about halfway along the south coast. So it must be somewhere to the west of us. We keep heading west, we'll find it."
Nevid did not look at the others as he spoke.
"Shaer is about two thousand miles from Al-Tizim. We might be months away. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I haven't got any water or food with me just now."
As the import of his words sank in to the others, he turned around to face them.
"We're all going to be dead in a few days."
Elena managed a shrug.
"Isaac's probably glad he's not with us, then."
Etienne
"What?"
"What?"
Etienne's confused expression only raised his friends' eyebrows. The halfbreed looked around slowly, but there was no obvious source for the voice that had so familiarly whispered his name.
Etienne, listen to me.
Elena frowned as Etienne raised a finger.
"Could you guys excuse me for a second?"
He walked a few paces away and stared down at the sand. After two or three breaths he raised his head and returned. He pointed.
"This way."
Nobody moved. Not even Gral.
"There's water this way. About eight hours' walk from here."
Still no movement.
"Come on."
Arrafin turned her head and regarded the little owl on her shoulder. The tiny bird launched itself into the air, spiraling upwards towards the pale pink sky high above.
The others watched it go in still silence. The bird flapped energetically, rising up and up until it was nearly lost from sight.
Arrafin nodded, then shook her head in amazement.
"There's a valley that way. He might be right."
Elena and Nevid both frowned. They turned to Etienne.
"Don't ask."
Elena considered that, then shook her head.
"Nuh-uh. What the hell, Etienne? What is this? How are you suddenly an expert on desert survival? You told us you'd never left Pavairelle before."
"I, uh. I. Look, let's just go. We need the water, right? Not dying, that's good, right? Right?"
Elena walked up to the half-Kishak and shoved him back.
"Who are you working for? Who's in that half-empty head of yours?"
Etienne stumbled back but made no answer. He and Elena stared at each other, and then the slender Pavairellean youth shrugged.
"Fine. Stay here and die of thirst. Me, I'm going where the water is. Any of you want to come, you're welcome."
Anger set in his broad shoulders, the young man strode off up the canyon. The others watched him go.
Arrafin clucked at Gral as the little owl returned to her, then looked over at Elena.
"Why would you think he'd be the only one of us without a bunch of ugly secrets? Anyway, I'm thirsty."
She followed Etienne. Elena glared at Nevid but the Saijadani youth had no response. He lowered his head and set out after Arrafin and Etienne. Elena watched them go, fighting back anger. At length, as her friends rounded a shoulder of towering, wind-scoured rock, she marched forward, the same direction they had gone.
*****
Zuleika tried not to be happy the soldiers had started on her sister. Shalia hadn't stopped weeping since they'd gotten away, but Zuleika knew that if Hamman hadn't pulled his trick when he did, those soldiers would have turned on her next.
And now it looked like it was only a matter of time. Hamman was bleeding badly and no matter what Shalia said, her husband wasn't going to make it another day. The little boys, clinging to one another on their gallo behind the adults, hadn't spoken since yesterday morning.
Since the Crimson Host had descended on their farm and slaughtered the hands, fired the buildings and butchered poor, beautiful, courageous Maheem. Her young husband. Zuleika couldn't let herself think about him. She could recall Shalia's screams, but her mind skipped around Maheem's last moments.
For about an hour Zuleika had been hopeful those beni Howetait bastards had decided not to follow them, but she'd seen their figures silhouetted against the setting sun last night, and she was sure they were still back there. Probably closing fast and preparing a morning ambush as the sun came up today.
The lean Naridic woman checked the scimitar at her belt. Hamman was in no shape to fight, and Shalia had never held a sword in her life, but Zuleika had served two tours in the Sultan's army and could hold her own. Not that it would make any difference against the four or five beni Howetait warriors she knew where getting ready to sweep down on their little band.
She would not suffer the fate Shalia had. Those bastards would have to kill her.
The sun was rising straight ahead. The ridges of the river valley to either side of the shone with lurid radiance. Zuleika began a prayer to Mullah but halted half-way through, frowning. Her keen eyes caught a set of figures upon the northern ridge, four standing figures that even at this distance were clearly not beni Howetait warriors.
Before she could consider that mystery, sudden uluations erupted all around their little party as the beni Howetait came rushing up behind them. Shalia screamed as Zuleika wheeled her mount and charged their attackers. She plowed through their midst, swinging wildly and howling as her blade connected solidly against one rider's midsection. Her exultation dropped away as she felt hot wetness against her arm and knew she'd been hit as well. She tried to turn her gallo but her left arm fell senseless and all she could do was turn in her seat, swearing as she watched the savage desert madmen descend on her family.
Hamman revived enough to lash the boys' gallo, and the startled beast lunged forward, passing he and Shalia just as the raiders arrived.
It took a second. Not even a heartbeat.
Hamman threw up an arm. A sabre flashed, cutting straight through. Another and Zuleika's brother-in-law convulsed, toppling from his saddle in a spray of blood and organs. Shalia shrieked as a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her from her mount.
And then the children began screaming.
Zuleika screamed as well and kicked her beast, urging it into the fray, unable to stand aside, when a series of gunshots rang out over the screams and triumphant yells. Zuleika looked up from her mad charge and saw to her astonishment a group of total strangers come running down the hillside to the slaughter. She reached the melee and screamed, waving her scimitar and riding for the one still dragging her little sister. A heavy blow caught her in the side, but Zuleika lashed out, nearly decapitating one of the warriors as she fell from her saddle. She could hear her own blood splashing onto the sand.
Shalia fell to the ground not far away, limp and with her head twisted unnaturally. Zuleika managed a moment of clarity to ask God to forgive her for being happy that her poor sister had suffered rather than she, and then darkness took her.
*****
"Now what? God, what a mess."
"This one's still alive. Get the skull, hurry."
"God. God. How can people do this to each other? They were children."
"The skull, Arrafin. Now."
"Yes, yes. Here. God."
Nevid squatted on a flat rock by the creek, watching blood swirl past in the clear water. His young face reflected back at him, set with tension and repressed emotion. He couldn't look back. He just stared at the blood of children floating past.
He was nineteen years old. He'd negotiated difficult contracts all across Saijadan. He'd witnessed duels and slaughter before. This was no worse.
He closed his eyes. A hand came down on his shoulder.
Of course it was Elena. Her dark eyes shone in the surface of the creek, rich with sympathy.
"Take this comfort, Nevid. We got them. We got all of them."
Nevid stood up, stepping away.
"We should have kept one alive. For questions. We don't know who they were, where they were from."
From behind him a quiet voice with a Naridic accent answered.
"They are from the Crimson Host. An army raised to fight the Kishaks."
He turned to find a striking Naridic woman, the lone survivor of the battle, sitting amidst slain bodies, with Etienne kneeling beside her.
Arrafin, packing the marble skull back into her bag, frowned.
"But you people aren't Kishaks."
"True. I guess there aren't any Kishaks around, so they have to kill somebody."
"But you're Naridic. You're the same people."
The woman's smile, when she turned it on Arrafin, was somehow the most horrible thing Nevid had seen all day.
"I guess I should have pointed that out to them. My fault."
"That's not what I -- "
Etienne stepped in to cut off Arrafin.
"That's enough, Arrafin. Let her rest."
He led the shattered woman towards the creek. She followed without words. Nevid cleared his throat as they approached.
"Where is the nearest town?"
"Tallal. It's a few days' ride. That way. Through the Crimson Host."
She smiled again at Arrafin.
"No doubt once you explain how we're all together there won't be any trouble."
Last edited:
barsoomcore
Unattainable Ideal
Another Fine Mess: 13
"Not again."
Isaac raised his head wearily. None of his friends were anywhere in sight. This he expected.
What he had not expected was the towering ruin that surrounded him. Half-crumbled walls and leaning spires, scoured by the sand-thick wind, emerged from the dunes as mute, tragic evidence of the passage of time.
No sign of that traitorous minx Kani, of course. Isaac swore a very specific and descriptive oath to himself concerning what he would do to that crazy sorceress if he ever encountered her again.
Frustrated, Isaac shuffled through the nameless ruins, kicking at toppled blocks and weaving ever-more elaborate curses over not just Kani but that del Orofin bootlicker, Collette de Maynard, who'd made a fool of him again and again. Somehow, he was sure, this was all that bitch's fault.
He rounded the corner of some broken-down tower and stopped, staring down at a wooden plank set very deliberately out of the way of the wind and drifting sand. All thoughts of unpleasant women left his mind as he read the writing carved into the wood.
Dominic. Wait here.
"That's new."
*****
Aran pulled hard to the left, signalling to Harim to follow.
Just where she said he would be. Aran recited a quiet prayer of thanksgiving that he was honoured to serve the Khadisan, she who foresaw the future and embodied the living will of God. She who had dispatched he and Harim to this ancient ruin to meet the foreigner.
They circled the ruin once, the buzzing wings of the kithrak stirring up loose sand below. The foreigner watched them descend, his arms crossed over his burly chest. He made no move to shield himself from the sudden sandstorm kicked up by the kithraks' descent.
Aran wondered how he'd gotten here. He had no visible supplies and was not dressed for travel across the desert. Perhaps he was a djinn, compelled to serve the Khadisan. Aran resolved to be polite.
He dismounted and approached the foreigner. Both he and Harim bowed.
"Honoured guest. The Khadisan, the Glorious Beloved of God, has sent us here to find you and deliver you into Her holy presence. Before Her you will know the grace of God and be fulfilled in your sacred duty. We humbly offer you our service in this voyage, and pledge ourselves to your safe delivery. Blessed be the Khadisan. Glory to God."
The foreigner stared at them. And then spoke in what Aran assumed was Imperial Kishak, the language of all the nations around the Inner Sea.
Except the Narid. Aran had no idea what the big stranger was saying.
"This could be difficult."
*****
"There's thousands of them."
Etienne came scrambling down the ridge towards his friends. Even sheltered as they were, they could hear and smell the massive camp of the Crimson Host. Thousands of warriors appeared to have joined the Host's banner, eager for the opportunity to plunder and kill.
Zuleika shuddered at the sound of the warriors' triumphant cries. Etienne put an arm around her shoulders.
"We'll have to go around. I can see Tallal, it's just a few miles, but I don't think we should go any further until dark. If they see us..."
Nobody needed that sentence finished. Images of what had happened to Zuleika's family a few days ago were still vivid in everyone's mind. Silence and secrecy were the only defense the small band had against such a massive gathering of savage desert pirates only a bowshot away. Everyone stayed huddled against the lee of the dune, hoping that if they could only remain completely silent, they would avoid detection.
Nevid began screaming and thrashing.
*****
Children shrieked on all sides. High pillars of gold-veined marble rose up in the morning sunshine, still and unmoved by the unending screams of anguish and terror.
The air stank, thick with blood. Meat slapped down on the steps, splashing gore. One scream rose up suddenly, as a guttural roar broke across the immense hall. Flesh tore and bones snapped and something hungry tore and grunted and snarled as it fed.
Nevid stared upwards through eyes not his own. He could see sprays of blood painting the walls, hear the screams and hopeless wailing cries. Other voices sang in angelic counterpoint to the hellish scene around him. Torn bodies of young girls sprawled everywhere.
Suddenly SHE leaned over him. Madame Yuek, her perfect face covered in blood, dripping. She sneered and reached down with taloned fingers and the pain as his sight went red then black was more than Nevid had ever known.
*****
Isaac tried to show no discomfort as, encouraged by the Naridic fellows, he climbed up into the saddle of the gigantic beetle. His enormous insect was tethered to that of Aran (learning each other's names had stretched everyone's linguistic talents), so he was at least comforted by the hope that he wasn't expected to know how to guide the creature.
He settled himself into the stiff, cracking leather of the saddle, and grabbed the horn as all three creatures leapt into the air.
There didn't seem to be any straps, he noted. No doubt these mad desert warriors thought any concern with safety showed moral weakness.
Isaac hung on, letting his pulse settle enough that he could afford to peer over the side of the flying insect beneath him.
The desert rolled by underneath, the dunes undulating so smoothly it seemed as though it was the waves of sand rolling by while he remained motionless. The occasional dry bone finger of scrub reached up from the valley floors between the dunes, and here and there unseen beasts had left their tracks, but otherwise there was no sign of life below.
The dunes stretched out to the horizon in all directions. Isaac twisted in his seat and swore in surprise at how far they had travelled --- the ruins were far behind them already, nearly lost to sight. Even the steady wind in his face had not prepared him for the speed of their flight.
When he turned to face forward, he saw the dunes ahead beginning to lessen, giving way to a vast rocky plain that baked in the sun, sending up wavering mirages of heat. Dust devils rose up higher than the travellers flew, twisting pillars of whirling sand seeming to walk across the horizon. Isaac wondered if the locals considered such things supernatural.
He squinted. Far off, what he had taken for just another dust devil had become to appear too regular, too steady. He realised the tower of dust was much farther away than he'd assumed, and swore again upon understanding the true scale of what he was witnessing.
At the base of the rising sail of dust a dark shadow moved across the desert, spreading slowly. Isaac and his guides headed straight for it. The shadow was miles in length.
A column. An army, marching across the desert. Isaac had done little study of political events but he knew the name: Sharina al-Sharina beni Howetait, the Banthspeaker. The Khadisan. The holy woman who led the great hope of the Narid against the armies of Kish. Her great army moved across the sea of sand, travelling where the Kishaks could not, and beyond the range of the Tyrant's Shades power.
Arrafin had mentioned the hope that the Banthspeaker would lead her army against the Kishaks before the gates of Al-Tizim, but apparently that had not happened.
Perhaps Isaac would get a chance to ask why. Their mounts tilted and began to descend, and Isaac swore yet again.
The advancing column was not made of men. It was made of banths. Isaac had heard stories of the impossible desert beasts of the Narid, cats the size of houses, but he'd not quite understood that the tales were in no way exaggerated. The mammoth creatures stood thirty feet high at the shoulder, striding along with vast paws spreading out on the rock.
What they might eat out here Isaac couldn't imagine. But each carried a sort of platform on its back, and these were packed with soldiers and tents and crates.
The scene was as though an immense armada of galleys had been transformed into titanic lions and deposited in the middle of the desert. It was impossible.
Isaac shook his head in wonder as they descended to the lead beast and landed. His guides helped him to dismount and gestured.
"I hope no one's offended if I say I've never really liked cats."
*****
"Shut him up."
"I'm trying."
Elena grappled with Nevid's twitching form and got a hand planted firmly over the young man's mouth, at last silencing his groans. She held him down as Etienne scrambled to the top of the ridge, then came hurtling down again.
"We have to leave. Now."
Zuleika helped Elena drag the now-unconscious Nevid as Arrafin gathered up her papers and hurried in their wake. The group scrambled down a rocky gully, Etienne watching behind them.
Voices rose up, distant but threatening. Nevid moaned.
Etienne, watching backwards, stumbled into Arrafin.
"Watch it, Arrafin. If we--"
Where'd he come from?"
Etienne turned around to find his friends stopped, facing a large Naridic man with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The Naridic man smiled.
"Come with me."
As they stood staring, a Kishak man, much shorter and tubbier than the Naridic fellow, peered around from behind the first. He pointed to a cave opening in the side of the gully.
"This way, this way."
Hooting Naridic voices from behind made their decision easy. The friends scrambled to follow the Kishak man. Etienne frowned and looked back. The Naridic man had completely disappeared. He turned to mention this to his friends, but they were already hurrying into the narrow cave. Etienne shook his head and followed.
Inside, he once again ran into Arrafin. She'd stopped just at the entrance, as had the others, staring in surprise at a crowd of Kishaks suddenly surrounding them.
"I'm having a lot of trouble keeping track. Who are the bad guys again?"
"Not again."
Isaac raised his head wearily. None of his friends were anywhere in sight. This he expected.
What he had not expected was the towering ruin that surrounded him. Half-crumbled walls and leaning spires, scoured by the sand-thick wind, emerged from the dunes as mute, tragic evidence of the passage of time.
No sign of that traitorous minx Kani, of course. Isaac swore a very specific and descriptive oath to himself concerning what he would do to that crazy sorceress if he ever encountered her again.
Frustrated, Isaac shuffled through the nameless ruins, kicking at toppled blocks and weaving ever-more elaborate curses over not just Kani but that del Orofin bootlicker, Collette de Maynard, who'd made a fool of him again and again. Somehow, he was sure, this was all that bitch's fault.
He rounded the corner of some broken-down tower and stopped, staring down at a wooden plank set very deliberately out of the way of the wind and drifting sand. All thoughts of unpleasant women left his mind as he read the writing carved into the wood.
Dominic. Wait here.
"That's new."
*****
Aran pulled hard to the left, signalling to Harim to follow.
Just where she said he would be. Aran recited a quiet prayer of thanksgiving that he was honoured to serve the Khadisan, she who foresaw the future and embodied the living will of God. She who had dispatched he and Harim to this ancient ruin to meet the foreigner.
They circled the ruin once, the buzzing wings of the kithrak stirring up loose sand below. The foreigner watched them descend, his arms crossed over his burly chest. He made no move to shield himself from the sudden sandstorm kicked up by the kithraks' descent.
Aran wondered how he'd gotten here. He had no visible supplies and was not dressed for travel across the desert. Perhaps he was a djinn, compelled to serve the Khadisan. Aran resolved to be polite.
He dismounted and approached the foreigner. Both he and Harim bowed.
"Honoured guest. The Khadisan, the Glorious Beloved of God, has sent us here to find you and deliver you into Her holy presence. Before Her you will know the grace of God and be fulfilled in your sacred duty. We humbly offer you our service in this voyage, and pledge ourselves to your safe delivery. Blessed be the Khadisan. Glory to God."
The foreigner stared at them. And then spoke in what Aran assumed was Imperial Kishak, the language of all the nations around the Inner Sea.
Except the Narid. Aran had no idea what the big stranger was saying.
"This could be difficult."
*****
"There's thousands of them."
Etienne came scrambling down the ridge towards his friends. Even sheltered as they were, they could hear and smell the massive camp of the Crimson Host. Thousands of warriors appeared to have joined the Host's banner, eager for the opportunity to plunder and kill.
Zuleika shuddered at the sound of the warriors' triumphant cries. Etienne put an arm around her shoulders.
"We'll have to go around. I can see Tallal, it's just a few miles, but I don't think we should go any further until dark. If they see us..."
Nobody needed that sentence finished. Images of what had happened to Zuleika's family a few days ago were still vivid in everyone's mind. Silence and secrecy were the only defense the small band had against such a massive gathering of savage desert pirates only a bowshot away. Everyone stayed huddled against the lee of the dune, hoping that if they could only remain completely silent, they would avoid detection.
Nevid began screaming and thrashing.
*****
Children shrieked on all sides. High pillars of gold-veined marble rose up in the morning sunshine, still and unmoved by the unending screams of anguish and terror.
The air stank, thick with blood. Meat slapped down on the steps, splashing gore. One scream rose up suddenly, as a guttural roar broke across the immense hall. Flesh tore and bones snapped and something hungry tore and grunted and snarled as it fed.
Nevid stared upwards through eyes not his own. He could see sprays of blood painting the walls, hear the screams and hopeless wailing cries. Other voices sang in angelic counterpoint to the hellish scene around him. Torn bodies of young girls sprawled everywhere.
Suddenly SHE leaned over him. Madame Yuek, her perfect face covered in blood, dripping. She sneered and reached down with taloned fingers and the pain as his sight went red then black was more than Nevid had ever known.
*****
Isaac tried to show no discomfort as, encouraged by the Naridic fellows, he climbed up into the saddle of the gigantic beetle. His enormous insect was tethered to that of Aran (learning each other's names had stretched everyone's linguistic talents), so he was at least comforted by the hope that he wasn't expected to know how to guide the creature.
He settled himself into the stiff, cracking leather of the saddle, and grabbed the horn as all three creatures leapt into the air.
There didn't seem to be any straps, he noted. No doubt these mad desert warriors thought any concern with safety showed moral weakness.
Isaac hung on, letting his pulse settle enough that he could afford to peer over the side of the flying insect beneath him.
The desert rolled by underneath, the dunes undulating so smoothly it seemed as though it was the waves of sand rolling by while he remained motionless. The occasional dry bone finger of scrub reached up from the valley floors between the dunes, and here and there unseen beasts had left their tracks, but otherwise there was no sign of life below.
The dunes stretched out to the horizon in all directions. Isaac twisted in his seat and swore in surprise at how far they had travelled --- the ruins were far behind them already, nearly lost to sight. Even the steady wind in his face had not prepared him for the speed of their flight.
When he turned to face forward, he saw the dunes ahead beginning to lessen, giving way to a vast rocky plain that baked in the sun, sending up wavering mirages of heat. Dust devils rose up higher than the travellers flew, twisting pillars of whirling sand seeming to walk across the horizon. Isaac wondered if the locals considered such things supernatural.
He squinted. Far off, what he had taken for just another dust devil had become to appear too regular, too steady. He realised the tower of dust was much farther away than he'd assumed, and swore again upon understanding the true scale of what he was witnessing.
At the base of the rising sail of dust a dark shadow moved across the desert, spreading slowly. Isaac and his guides headed straight for it. The shadow was miles in length.
A column. An army, marching across the desert. Isaac had done little study of political events but he knew the name: Sharina al-Sharina beni Howetait, the Banthspeaker. The Khadisan. The holy woman who led the great hope of the Narid against the armies of Kish. Her great army moved across the sea of sand, travelling where the Kishaks could not, and beyond the range of the Tyrant's Shades power.
Arrafin had mentioned the hope that the Banthspeaker would lead her army against the Kishaks before the gates of Al-Tizim, but apparently that had not happened.
Perhaps Isaac would get a chance to ask why. Their mounts tilted and began to descend, and Isaac swore yet again.
The advancing column was not made of men. It was made of banths. Isaac had heard stories of the impossible desert beasts of the Narid, cats the size of houses, but he'd not quite understood that the tales were in no way exaggerated. The mammoth creatures stood thirty feet high at the shoulder, striding along with vast paws spreading out on the rock.
What they might eat out here Isaac couldn't imagine. But each carried a sort of platform on its back, and these were packed with soldiers and tents and crates.
The scene was as though an immense armada of galleys had been transformed into titanic lions and deposited in the middle of the desert. It was impossible.
Isaac shook his head in wonder as they descended to the lead beast and landed. His guides helped him to dismount and gestured.
"I hope no one's offended if I say I've never really liked cats."
*****
"Shut him up."
"I'm trying."
Elena grappled with Nevid's twitching form and got a hand planted firmly over the young man's mouth, at last silencing his groans. She held him down as Etienne scrambled to the top of the ridge, then came hurtling down again.
"We have to leave. Now."
Zuleika helped Elena drag the now-unconscious Nevid as Arrafin gathered up her papers and hurried in their wake. The group scrambled down a rocky gully, Etienne watching behind them.
Voices rose up, distant but threatening. Nevid moaned.
Etienne, watching backwards, stumbled into Arrafin.
"Watch it, Arrafin. If we--"
Where'd he come from?"
Etienne turned around to find his friends stopped, facing a large Naridic man with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The Naridic man smiled.
"Come with me."
As they stood staring, a Kishak man, much shorter and tubbier than the Naridic fellow, peered around from behind the first. He pointed to a cave opening in the side of the gully.
"This way, this way."
Hooting Naridic voices from behind made their decision easy. The friends scrambled to follow the Kishak man. Etienne frowned and looked back. The Naridic man had completely disappeared. He turned to mention this to his friends, but they were already hurrying into the narrow cave. Etienne shook his head and followed.
Inside, he once again ran into Arrafin. She'd stopped just at the entrance, as had the others, staring in surprise at a crowd of Kishaks suddenly surrounding them.
"I'm having a lot of trouble keeping track. Who are the bad guys again?"
barsoomcore
Unattainable Ideal
I forgot to note that the second campaign-altering Swashbuckling Card was played a few episodes ago. Episode 9, actually.
The card? "Ah, Love: An NPC falls in love with one of the PCs. The love may be just a physical attraction or something deeper."
My choices were limited and I went with what I thought would be most dramatically appropriate. And never really thought it would turn into much.
Hoo boy.
The card? "Ah, Love: An NPC falls in love with one of the PCs. The love may be just a physical attraction or something deeper."
My choices were limited and I went with what I thought would be most dramatically appropriate. And never really thought it would turn into much.
Hoo boy.
Desdichado
Hero
You should have called it "Twoo Wuvv." 
barsoomcore
Unattainable Ideal
What's funny is that the players at this point assumed that the card had applied to Kaley and her sudden interest in Nevid, but that had already been planned into the adventure, so when the card was played, I had to come up with something else.
Good times. Good times.
Good times. Good times.
barsoomcore
Unattainable Ideal
Another Fine Mess: 14
"Where did that big Naridic guy go?"
Etienne scanned the crowd of Kishaks but failed to find a single Naridic face.
The narrow cave opening gave onto a wide cavern dimly lit from evident cracks in the ceiling overhead. Twenty or so Kishak folks gathered around the entrance.
As his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, he realised that these people were not soldiers. Dressed in travel-worn rags, with hollow faces and unkempt beards and hair, these folks looked like an especially ill-fortuned group of merchants.
Elena dropped Nevid and scowled around at their new friends. She nodded in support of Etienne's question.
"Yeah. What's going on here?"
Etienne recalled that they were, in theory at least, being pursued by savage Naridic warriors. He peered out the cave entrance and saw several mounted men ride by. None of them appeared to notice the cave.
The somewhat chubby Kishak who'd met them in the gully stepped forward, wringing his hands.
"Well, my friends. Uh. We, that is, my associates and I, are hoping for a little help."
"You don't say."
"My name is Guvan Thar, and we are... well, we're what's left of a caravan from Al-Tizim."
Arrafin stepped forward and snarled at the heavy-set man.
"Looting our cities and fattening yourselves on the suffering of the Naridic people!"
Thar stepped back, startled. He shook his head.
"No, no. We aren't..."
"Why didn't you stay in your own country, you red bastards?"
"I was born in Al-Tizim."
"What? Oh."
Arrafin's fire went out as quickly as it had come. Shamefacedly she bit her lower lip and bowed her head. Elena came forward to comfort her friend.
"Tell us what happened."
Thar sighed.
"As I say, we were part of a caravan heading south from Al-Tizim. This was... I don't know. Maybe a month ago? Everyone said the Kishak armies were coming across the desert and things were getting sort of... uncomfortable in the city."
He looked over at Arrafin.
"You're not the only Naridic person who feels that way, I can assure you. As we neared Tallal, we were set upon by those... that army out there. We managed to escape, but we had to leave all our supplies behind and hid in here."
Elena's dark eyes narrowed.
"And the thousands of Naridic soldiers just over there have somehow never looked inside this cave? There's something you're not telling us."
Thar drew himself up.
"This will seem very strange to you."
"Try us."
He reached for a small ceramic jug at his waist and pulled the stopper out. Elena was expecting him to pour something out of the jug but was distracted by the sudden return of the large Naridic man. He was extremely handsome, but something besides that compelled her attention. She wasn't sure just what it was, though. Besides his impressive handsomeness.
"This is Nusair. He, uh. works for us."
"What did you want to show us that was strange?"
Thar frowned. He held up the jug.
"Nusair lives in here."
Elena was still trying to process that when Arrafin gasped.
"He's a djinn?"
Thar sighed and nodded. Nusair simply stood with his arms crossed, imposing and beautiful. He paid no attention as Arrafin approached him, her eyes wide, and put a hand on his arm, her skin just slightly darker than his. She leapt back to stand beside Elena.
"He's warm."
The djinn turned to the two women and smiled. An answering smile lit up Elena's face before she knew what she was doing. Thar coughed.
"Nusair has, uh, looked after us."
"Has he now?"
Arrafin grinned at her friend.
"Elena, I've never seen you smile for so long before."
"What? What? I'm not. Okay. Okay. So you have a, whatchamacallit. A genie. In a jug. What do you need us for?"
As quick as he had appeared, Nusair was gone. Elena blinked. She'd had a quick impression of swirling colour and noise, and he vanished. There was a pungent sweetness to the air suddenly, and Elena felt her senses heighten somehow, her heart rate accelerate. She realised she'd felt the same sensations when he'd disappeared outside.
Thar shifted nervously as Elena, Arrafin and Zuleika all gathered around him. Etienne remained by the exit, watchful as always.
"So. You need our help, you said."
"Yes. Exactly. We. You see, Nusair is adept at some things. He can hide the entrance to this cave, for example. He can supply us with food and water. He could even keep us hidden from that army long enough to reach the gates of Tallal."
"Yes?"
"But we fear that the city gates will not be opened to such as us. That we will be caught outside the city wall and eventually the horde will find us. Perhaps with such as yourselves among us, we can more easily convince the guards to open the gates."
Arrafin frowned.
"But why are the gates closed? The Kishaks can't have come this far yet."
Thar stared at the girl, obviously confused for a few seconds.
"But you... Didn't you see that huge army out there? They would loot the town and burn it if they could get in."
"But they're Naridic. Aren't they here to fight the Kishaks?"
Zuleika laughed.
"Arrafin, can't you get it through your head? Nobody really cares about that stuff. These people are just criminals looking to profit off other people's misfortune."
"You'd rather the Kishaks rule the desert?"
"If it meant my family was still alive, yes."
The two Naridic women glared at one another. Etienne came over and put a hand on Zuleika's shoulder.
"Let's all calm down. These people don't seem to mean any harm. And they have a genie. That might come in handy."
"Yeah."
Elena addressed Thar.
"Bring him back. Let's talk to him."
And suddenly Nusair was standing there again, and again Elena felt that strange sensation. Thar spoke to him in a language Elena didn't understand and the big Naridic man bowed to them all.
"My master has instructed me to answer your questions."
Arrafin spread out her arms.
"Okay. This time, I mean it. We need to plan our questions. We need to think this through."
Elena and Etienne rolled their eyes.
"Guys. We blew it with Madame Yuek, let's not blow it again."
"How did we blow it?"
"We didn't even ask her what a vampire is, or how you kill one."
"Like she's going to--"
"She said she'd answer anything. Anyway, my point is, let's be careful. Let's think about this."
Nusair had stood impassive during this exchange. He smiled as Elena turned to him.
"Hi. Nusair. I'm Elena. How do you kill a vampire?"
He bowed again.
"Mistress, I regret I am unable to tell you."
"Mistress? Okay. Unable, huh? That's too bad."
Arrafin was still glaring at Elena when Zuleika leaned forward to address the genie.
"Can you get us past the Crimson Host without them seeing?"
"Mistress, yes I can."
"Wait, wait," Etienne now joined in, "Why can't you just fly these folks over the wall or something?"
"Master, I cannot enter the cities of Suelekar Ben Azan."
Arrafin started.
"What? What do you have to do with Suelekar Ben Azan?"
"Mistress, it was he who bound me as he bound Farouk ibn Zaoud."
When Arrafin showed no sign of closing her mouth after a few seconds, Elena shook her by the shoulder.
"Arrafin. What is it? Who's that?"
The slender Naridic girl turned to her friend, her eyes glassy with thought.
"Farouk ibn Zaoud. The great hero. He's buried in Al-Tizim. Or..."
Her big eyes swivelled to study Nusair again.
"Something is."
*****
The city of Tallal crouched tense and terrified. The streets rattled with furtive steps and uneasily-set latches.
Arrafin, Elena, Zuleika, Nevid and Etienne had left Thar and his companions at their caravanserai, and found themselves a quiet inn further into the city. Elena and Arrafin sat in their room after dinner, exchanging worries about Isaac but reassuring each other that their burly friend would be fine. They'd left Etienne and Zuleika exchanging anecdotes in the parlour below.
"I want to go to Al-Tizim, Elena. Legend says Farouk ibn Zaoud is buried beneath one of the stones in the Fountain of Kings. But if he's a djinn, maybe it's his... thing. You know, like Nusair's jug. We could have our own djinn."
Elena nodded to Arrafin's excited planning for the future. Eventually the Naridic girl ran out of steam and crawled into bed. Elena sat quietly for a while but then went out onto the rooftop garden to watch the stars.
Off to the east, the sprawling camp of the Crimson Host littered fires all across the landscape. Sparks of gunfire shot up from the darkness here and there. Elena switched her gaze to the immense walls of the city, taking comfort in the thought that the desert madmen would soon have to move on to find water and food. They couldn't stay out there forever.
The air was hot but a hesitant breeze kept her cool. Elena stretched and leaned out over the edge to look down into the street below.
"I should just push you. You stupid bitch."
Kani stood just behind her, her foreign face twisted in an angry sneer. Elena swallowed and tried to keep her fear from her voice.
"Maybe your mistress wouldn't like that so much."
"Maybe I don't give a f**k."
The Lohanese girl stepped even closer. She shook with fury.
"Maybe your scrawny little friend won't like Mother's attention so much once she's screaming and having her skin peeled off and her tongue cut out and she's getting raped by a dozen saw blades. Do you think she'd like that? Do you?"
"What do you want?"
Without any apparent transition Kani was suddenly a smiling, rather pretty young woman. She bowed.
"I just wanted to warn you. The next time we meet, I might not be on the side you think I'm on. I might make a change."
"Okay. What side are you on now?"
Kani hissed and clawed her hands at Elena's face, then leapt back.
"To hell with you, then. I'll tell Shang to take extra time with you."
"Shang?"
It was too late. Shadows swirled up around Kani and she disappeared. Elena shook her head.
"What a bitch."
"Where did that big Naridic guy go?"
Etienne scanned the crowd of Kishaks but failed to find a single Naridic face.
The narrow cave opening gave onto a wide cavern dimly lit from evident cracks in the ceiling overhead. Twenty or so Kishak folks gathered around the entrance.
As his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, he realised that these people were not soldiers. Dressed in travel-worn rags, with hollow faces and unkempt beards and hair, these folks looked like an especially ill-fortuned group of merchants.
Elena dropped Nevid and scowled around at their new friends. She nodded in support of Etienne's question.
"Yeah. What's going on here?"
Etienne recalled that they were, in theory at least, being pursued by savage Naridic warriors. He peered out the cave entrance and saw several mounted men ride by. None of them appeared to notice the cave.
The somewhat chubby Kishak who'd met them in the gully stepped forward, wringing his hands.
"Well, my friends. Uh. We, that is, my associates and I, are hoping for a little help."
"You don't say."
"My name is Guvan Thar, and we are... well, we're what's left of a caravan from Al-Tizim."
Arrafin stepped forward and snarled at the heavy-set man.
"Looting our cities and fattening yourselves on the suffering of the Naridic people!"
Thar stepped back, startled. He shook his head.
"No, no. We aren't..."
"Why didn't you stay in your own country, you red bastards?"
"I was born in Al-Tizim."
"What? Oh."
Arrafin's fire went out as quickly as it had come. Shamefacedly she bit her lower lip and bowed her head. Elena came forward to comfort her friend.
"Tell us what happened."
Thar sighed.
"As I say, we were part of a caravan heading south from Al-Tizim. This was... I don't know. Maybe a month ago? Everyone said the Kishak armies were coming across the desert and things were getting sort of... uncomfortable in the city."
He looked over at Arrafin.
"You're not the only Naridic person who feels that way, I can assure you. As we neared Tallal, we were set upon by those... that army out there. We managed to escape, but we had to leave all our supplies behind and hid in here."
Elena's dark eyes narrowed.
"And the thousands of Naridic soldiers just over there have somehow never looked inside this cave? There's something you're not telling us."
Thar drew himself up.
"This will seem very strange to you."
"Try us."
He reached for a small ceramic jug at his waist and pulled the stopper out. Elena was expecting him to pour something out of the jug but was distracted by the sudden return of the large Naridic man. He was extremely handsome, but something besides that compelled her attention. She wasn't sure just what it was, though. Besides his impressive handsomeness.
"This is Nusair. He, uh. works for us."
"What did you want to show us that was strange?"
Thar frowned. He held up the jug.
"Nusair lives in here."
Elena was still trying to process that when Arrafin gasped.
"He's a djinn?"
Thar sighed and nodded. Nusair simply stood with his arms crossed, imposing and beautiful. He paid no attention as Arrafin approached him, her eyes wide, and put a hand on his arm, her skin just slightly darker than his. She leapt back to stand beside Elena.
"He's warm."
The djinn turned to the two women and smiled. An answering smile lit up Elena's face before she knew what she was doing. Thar coughed.
"Nusair has, uh, looked after us."
"Has he now?"
Arrafin grinned at her friend.
"Elena, I've never seen you smile for so long before."
"What? What? I'm not. Okay. Okay. So you have a, whatchamacallit. A genie. In a jug. What do you need us for?"
As quick as he had appeared, Nusair was gone. Elena blinked. She'd had a quick impression of swirling colour and noise, and he vanished. There was a pungent sweetness to the air suddenly, and Elena felt her senses heighten somehow, her heart rate accelerate. She realised she'd felt the same sensations when he'd disappeared outside.
Thar shifted nervously as Elena, Arrafin and Zuleika all gathered around him. Etienne remained by the exit, watchful as always.
"So. You need our help, you said."
"Yes. Exactly. We. You see, Nusair is adept at some things. He can hide the entrance to this cave, for example. He can supply us with food and water. He could even keep us hidden from that army long enough to reach the gates of Tallal."
"Yes?"
"But we fear that the city gates will not be opened to such as us. That we will be caught outside the city wall and eventually the horde will find us. Perhaps with such as yourselves among us, we can more easily convince the guards to open the gates."
Arrafin frowned.
"But why are the gates closed? The Kishaks can't have come this far yet."
Thar stared at the girl, obviously confused for a few seconds.
"But you... Didn't you see that huge army out there? They would loot the town and burn it if they could get in."
"But they're Naridic. Aren't they here to fight the Kishaks?"
Zuleika laughed.
"Arrafin, can't you get it through your head? Nobody really cares about that stuff. These people are just criminals looking to profit off other people's misfortune."
"You'd rather the Kishaks rule the desert?"
"If it meant my family was still alive, yes."
The two Naridic women glared at one another. Etienne came over and put a hand on Zuleika's shoulder.
"Let's all calm down. These people don't seem to mean any harm. And they have a genie. That might come in handy."
"Yeah."
Elena addressed Thar.
"Bring him back. Let's talk to him."
And suddenly Nusair was standing there again, and again Elena felt that strange sensation. Thar spoke to him in a language Elena didn't understand and the big Naridic man bowed to them all.
"My master has instructed me to answer your questions."
Arrafin spread out her arms.
"Okay. This time, I mean it. We need to plan our questions. We need to think this through."
Elena and Etienne rolled their eyes.
"Guys. We blew it with Madame Yuek, let's not blow it again."
"How did we blow it?"
"We didn't even ask her what a vampire is, or how you kill one."
"Like she's going to--"
"She said she'd answer anything. Anyway, my point is, let's be careful. Let's think about this."
Nusair had stood impassive during this exchange. He smiled as Elena turned to him.
"Hi. Nusair. I'm Elena. How do you kill a vampire?"
He bowed again.
"Mistress, I regret I am unable to tell you."
"Mistress? Okay. Unable, huh? That's too bad."
Arrafin was still glaring at Elena when Zuleika leaned forward to address the genie.
"Can you get us past the Crimson Host without them seeing?"
"Mistress, yes I can."
"Wait, wait," Etienne now joined in, "Why can't you just fly these folks over the wall or something?"
"Master, I cannot enter the cities of Suelekar Ben Azan."
Arrafin started.
"What? What do you have to do with Suelekar Ben Azan?"
"Mistress, it was he who bound me as he bound Farouk ibn Zaoud."
When Arrafin showed no sign of closing her mouth after a few seconds, Elena shook her by the shoulder.
"Arrafin. What is it? Who's that?"
The slender Naridic girl turned to her friend, her eyes glassy with thought.
"Farouk ibn Zaoud. The great hero. He's buried in Al-Tizim. Or..."
Her big eyes swivelled to study Nusair again.
"Something is."
*****
The city of Tallal crouched tense and terrified. The streets rattled with furtive steps and uneasily-set latches.
Arrafin, Elena, Zuleika, Nevid and Etienne had left Thar and his companions at their caravanserai, and found themselves a quiet inn further into the city. Elena and Arrafin sat in their room after dinner, exchanging worries about Isaac but reassuring each other that their burly friend would be fine. They'd left Etienne and Zuleika exchanging anecdotes in the parlour below.
"I want to go to Al-Tizim, Elena. Legend says Farouk ibn Zaoud is buried beneath one of the stones in the Fountain of Kings. But if he's a djinn, maybe it's his... thing. You know, like Nusair's jug. We could have our own djinn."
Elena nodded to Arrafin's excited planning for the future. Eventually the Naridic girl ran out of steam and crawled into bed. Elena sat quietly for a while but then went out onto the rooftop garden to watch the stars.
Off to the east, the sprawling camp of the Crimson Host littered fires all across the landscape. Sparks of gunfire shot up from the darkness here and there. Elena switched her gaze to the immense walls of the city, taking comfort in the thought that the desert madmen would soon have to move on to find water and food. They couldn't stay out there forever.
The air was hot but a hesitant breeze kept her cool. Elena stretched and leaned out over the edge to look down into the street below.
"I should just push you. You stupid bitch."
Kani stood just behind her, her foreign face twisted in an angry sneer. Elena swallowed and tried to keep her fear from her voice.
"Maybe your mistress wouldn't like that so much."
"Maybe I don't give a f**k."
The Lohanese girl stepped even closer. She shook with fury.
"Maybe your scrawny little friend won't like Mother's attention so much once she's screaming and having her skin peeled off and her tongue cut out and she's getting raped by a dozen saw blades. Do you think she'd like that? Do you?"
"What do you want?"
Without any apparent transition Kani was suddenly a smiling, rather pretty young woman. She bowed.
"I just wanted to warn you. The next time we meet, I might not be on the side you think I'm on. I might make a change."
"Okay. What side are you on now?"
Kani hissed and clawed her hands at Elena's face, then leapt back.
"To hell with you, then. I'll tell Shang to take extra time with you."
"Shang?"
It was too late. Shadows swirled up around Kani and she disappeared. Elena shook her head.
"What a bitch."
barsoomcore
Unattainable Ideal
Another Fine Mess: 15
"The Khadisan awaits you."
At least somebody here spoke Imperial Kishak, mused Isaac as he advanced through billowing lines of curtains. Whoever this Khadisan was, she seemed to live at the center of a vast maze of hanging draperies. Everywhere thronged dangerous-looking men, most of whom sneered at the Saijadani and fingered the hilts of their scimitars invitingly.
Isaac tried not to let it bother him. He did as he was told, stepping through one curtain after another. He'd begun to suspect he was just being led around some four or five of these curtains, back and forth, when he found himself in an open space, without any sort of canvas over top of him for once.
High above, formations of those gigantic beetles drew his eye westward. There must be dozens of them, he realised. Entire squadrons droned along, their heavy buzzing just audible.
"I will call you Dominic."
Isaac brought his gaze down and found himself facing a rather plain Naridic woman with a weatherbeaten face and white robes. She sat on a low couch and all around her Naridic folks knelt with their faces to the floor.
Isaac wasn't sure how to greet her. He bowed.
"Uh. Ms. Al-Sharina, I presume?"
"I am the Khadisan."
That word set off an excited murmur all through the room. Some kind of ritual prayer, Isaac decided.
"Very well, Khadisan. You brought me -- waitaminute. How did you know I would be at that ruin? I didn't even know I'd be there."
The Khadisan smiled.
"Many things are revealed to the daughter of God. You are familiar with the production of gunpowder, and so you will serve in my alchemical factory."
"I have some friends that --"
"We are on our way to where your friends await. Worry not, Dominic."
"Okay. And you want me to make gunpowder for you? I'm not really--"
She laughed.
"My senior engineer requires an assistant. You will help him. He will be pleased to have you around. I'm sure you'll have much to talk about."
Isaac considered all this.
"I don't really feel like I'm getting a lot of choice here."
"That's good. I wouldn't want to give any false impressions."
She warbled something in Naridic and an unsmiling guard gestured back the way Isaac had come. The Khadisan had already turned away and was in discussion with someone else. Isaac considered asking for a little more respect.
The unsmiling guard smiled even less. His gesture took on a certain urgency.
Isaac sighed.
"Fine. But don't blame me if I blow something up."
*****
Reyhan squinted and tapped another tiny pinch of powder into the flask. Satisfied, he turned to the workbench, where rested what appeared to be a stone about two hand-spans across, with a hole drilled into its center. The aging professor upended the flask into the hole and watched as the dark powder poured into the stone.
He was just setting the flask down when the curtained door pulled aside and two guards pushed a broad-shouldered Saijadani man into his workshop.
"The Khadisan, Blessed Be Her Name, sends you this foreigner as an assistant. He does not speak Naridic but the Khadisan, Blessed Be Her Name, says that he understands your work."
"Ah. Well, thank her for me."
Reyhan paid no attention to the sour looks of the guards, but instead turned to study the Saijadani man, noticing the heavy sword at his belt, the finely-made double-barreled pistols, the travel-stained garments and the angry set to his jaw.
Reyhan smiled and held out his hand in the Northern style. He spoke in Imperial Kishak.
"Greetings, sir. I am Reyhan al-Fasir beni Hassan. Welcome."
The Saijadani's relief at being addressed in his native language was obvious. He shook Reyhan's hand with a grin.
"Thank you, sir. Honestly, I don't know how much help I'll be. It's been a while since I was an apprentice..."
"I'm sure we'll find a use for you. You can grind powder for blasting? Excellent. First, let's put your weapons and other metal accoutrements away. No sparks, of course."
He put the Saijadani to work and they traded some pleasantries, but there was much to do and Reyhan wanted to first observe this fellow to ensure he wasn't going to be a danger in the lab.
It quickly became clear that Dominic had more than passing skill at this work. Reyhan brought him over to the main workbench.
"Now observe. This appears to be stone, but it is in fact carefully-crafted ceramic. We fill it with powder, so. Careful now. This wax is for sealing."
Reyhan always held his breath as he poured the melted wax over the volatile powder. There really wasn't much danger, but one couldn't be too careful.
Dominic studied the ceramic "stone" and then frowned at the immense store of similar stones beyond the bench.
"They look like cobblestones."
Reyhan smiled. He passed Dominic one from the empty pile.
"Look inside."
The Saijadani's brown eyes narrowed.
"It's scored. This is a. What? A grenade? It's too big. What are you doing?"
"We are going to Tallal."
"Good for us. But I'm thinking maybe bad for Tallal."
"The Tyrant's Shade has dispatched an army to Tallal. We will arrive ahead of them. In Tallal, there is a large open square in front of the Sharif's palace."
Dominic frowned.
"A square, my Saijadani friend, paved with large cobblestones. The Kishak army will assemble there."
"You can't be serious."
Reyhan's pleasant smile became murderous.
"They killed my son. They have taken my friends away, never to be seen again. My city bleeds under the Tyrant's Shade. The Narid will be free, my friend."
"You're going to set off --" Dominic's eyes went to the pile, "A few thousand bombs directly under the Kishak army?"
"Oh, no. Most of the mines have already been flown into the city. The total will be more like twenty thousand."
Dominic stared.
"You know, I told Arrafin her country was full of crazy people."
"Arrafin?"
Now it was Reyhan's turn to stare.
"Yeah, Arrafin al-Fasir... wait a minute."
Both men stared, motionless.
*****
The Sharif's palace was humbler than Isaac had expected. He studied its domes and minarets as the workcrew laboured, levering up cobblestone after cobblestone and replacing them with the ceramic fakes he and Reyhan had filled with gunpowder. A question drew his attention back to the work. The work demanded a great deal of his attention.
Fuses had to be set with painstaking care to ensure that the explosions would be timed correctly. Isaac was impressed with Reyhan's careful precision.
But then, he should have expected that Arrafin's father would be every bit as brilliant as his daughter.
And every bit as crazy.
Reyhan was a history professor, not a chemist. Not an engineer. He'd taught himself the secrets of powder manufacturing (and developed a number of improvements Isaac had never seen before) in a matter of weeks, and overseen the development of effective anti-personnel mines, and been crazy enough to even think of this infernal scheme in the first place.
He was a charming enough man, with Arrafin's propensity with long, vocabulary-enriched stories that occasionally left Isaac scratching his head, but they got along well. Isaac's blunt pragmatism made for a useful contrast and they worked well together in the lab.
And of course he pressed Isaac for stories of his daughter, fascinated by the news that she had uncovered the secrets of sorcery, and equally by the strange and ancient characters they'd encountered in their travels. His questions and muttered commentary reminded Isaac powerfully of the young girl he'd been travelling with.
The Khadisan had told Isaac he'd meet his friends in Tallal, and he told himself that must mean they were all okay. He told Reyhan that she'd said he'd meet ALL his friends there.
He looked up again at the palace, and then around at the rest of the city. The great towering structure opposite the palace was the Mullaham -- the temple where Naridic people prayed to their desert god, Mullah. Isaac didn't really understand the religion but he assumed it had a great deal to do with the general craziness of everyone in this part of the world.
The Kishak army was only a few days away. Isaac encouraged the workers to go a little faster.
"The Khadisan awaits you."
At least somebody here spoke Imperial Kishak, mused Isaac as he advanced through billowing lines of curtains. Whoever this Khadisan was, she seemed to live at the center of a vast maze of hanging draperies. Everywhere thronged dangerous-looking men, most of whom sneered at the Saijadani and fingered the hilts of their scimitars invitingly.
Isaac tried not to let it bother him. He did as he was told, stepping through one curtain after another. He'd begun to suspect he was just being led around some four or five of these curtains, back and forth, when he found himself in an open space, without any sort of canvas over top of him for once.
High above, formations of those gigantic beetles drew his eye westward. There must be dozens of them, he realised. Entire squadrons droned along, their heavy buzzing just audible.
"I will call you Dominic."
Isaac brought his gaze down and found himself facing a rather plain Naridic woman with a weatherbeaten face and white robes. She sat on a low couch and all around her Naridic folks knelt with their faces to the floor.
Isaac wasn't sure how to greet her. He bowed.
"Uh. Ms. Al-Sharina, I presume?"
"I am the Khadisan."
That word set off an excited murmur all through the room. Some kind of ritual prayer, Isaac decided.
"Very well, Khadisan. You brought me -- waitaminute. How did you know I would be at that ruin? I didn't even know I'd be there."
The Khadisan smiled.
"Many things are revealed to the daughter of God. You are familiar with the production of gunpowder, and so you will serve in my alchemical factory."
"I have some friends that --"
"We are on our way to where your friends await. Worry not, Dominic."
"Okay. And you want me to make gunpowder for you? I'm not really--"
She laughed.
"My senior engineer requires an assistant. You will help him. He will be pleased to have you around. I'm sure you'll have much to talk about."
Isaac considered all this.
"I don't really feel like I'm getting a lot of choice here."
"That's good. I wouldn't want to give any false impressions."
She warbled something in Naridic and an unsmiling guard gestured back the way Isaac had come. The Khadisan had already turned away and was in discussion with someone else. Isaac considered asking for a little more respect.
The unsmiling guard smiled even less. His gesture took on a certain urgency.
Isaac sighed.
"Fine. But don't blame me if I blow something up."
*****
Reyhan squinted and tapped another tiny pinch of powder into the flask. Satisfied, he turned to the workbench, where rested what appeared to be a stone about two hand-spans across, with a hole drilled into its center. The aging professor upended the flask into the hole and watched as the dark powder poured into the stone.
He was just setting the flask down when the curtained door pulled aside and two guards pushed a broad-shouldered Saijadani man into his workshop.
"The Khadisan, Blessed Be Her Name, sends you this foreigner as an assistant. He does not speak Naridic but the Khadisan, Blessed Be Her Name, says that he understands your work."
"Ah. Well, thank her for me."
Reyhan paid no attention to the sour looks of the guards, but instead turned to study the Saijadani man, noticing the heavy sword at his belt, the finely-made double-barreled pistols, the travel-stained garments and the angry set to his jaw.
Reyhan smiled and held out his hand in the Northern style. He spoke in Imperial Kishak.
"Greetings, sir. I am Reyhan al-Fasir beni Hassan. Welcome."
The Saijadani's relief at being addressed in his native language was obvious. He shook Reyhan's hand with a grin.
"Thank you, sir. Honestly, I don't know how much help I'll be. It's been a while since I was an apprentice..."
"I'm sure we'll find a use for you. You can grind powder for blasting? Excellent. First, let's put your weapons and other metal accoutrements away. No sparks, of course."
He put the Saijadani to work and they traded some pleasantries, but there was much to do and Reyhan wanted to first observe this fellow to ensure he wasn't going to be a danger in the lab.
It quickly became clear that Dominic had more than passing skill at this work. Reyhan brought him over to the main workbench.
"Now observe. This appears to be stone, but it is in fact carefully-crafted ceramic. We fill it with powder, so. Careful now. This wax is for sealing."
Reyhan always held his breath as he poured the melted wax over the volatile powder. There really wasn't much danger, but one couldn't be too careful.
Dominic studied the ceramic "stone" and then frowned at the immense store of similar stones beyond the bench.
"They look like cobblestones."
Reyhan smiled. He passed Dominic one from the empty pile.
"Look inside."
The Saijadani's brown eyes narrowed.
"It's scored. This is a. What? A grenade? It's too big. What are you doing?"
"We are going to Tallal."
"Good for us. But I'm thinking maybe bad for Tallal."
"The Tyrant's Shade has dispatched an army to Tallal. We will arrive ahead of them. In Tallal, there is a large open square in front of the Sharif's palace."
Dominic frowned.
"A square, my Saijadani friend, paved with large cobblestones. The Kishak army will assemble there."
"You can't be serious."
Reyhan's pleasant smile became murderous.
"They killed my son. They have taken my friends away, never to be seen again. My city bleeds under the Tyrant's Shade. The Narid will be free, my friend."
"You're going to set off --" Dominic's eyes went to the pile, "A few thousand bombs directly under the Kishak army?"
"Oh, no. Most of the mines have already been flown into the city. The total will be more like twenty thousand."
Dominic stared.
"You know, I told Arrafin her country was full of crazy people."
"Arrafin?"
Now it was Reyhan's turn to stare.
"Yeah, Arrafin al-Fasir... wait a minute."
Both men stared, motionless.
*****
The Sharif's palace was humbler than Isaac had expected. He studied its domes and minarets as the workcrew laboured, levering up cobblestone after cobblestone and replacing them with the ceramic fakes he and Reyhan had filled with gunpowder. A question drew his attention back to the work. The work demanded a great deal of his attention.
Fuses had to be set with painstaking care to ensure that the explosions would be timed correctly. Isaac was impressed with Reyhan's careful precision.
But then, he should have expected that Arrafin's father would be every bit as brilliant as his daughter.
And every bit as crazy.
Reyhan was a history professor, not a chemist. Not an engineer. He'd taught himself the secrets of powder manufacturing (and developed a number of improvements Isaac had never seen before) in a matter of weeks, and overseen the development of effective anti-personnel mines, and been crazy enough to even think of this infernal scheme in the first place.
He was a charming enough man, with Arrafin's propensity with long, vocabulary-enriched stories that occasionally left Isaac scratching his head, but they got along well. Isaac's blunt pragmatism made for a useful contrast and they worked well together in the lab.
And of course he pressed Isaac for stories of his daughter, fascinated by the news that she had uncovered the secrets of sorcery, and equally by the strange and ancient characters they'd encountered in their travels. His questions and muttered commentary reminded Isaac powerfully of the young girl he'd been travelling with.
The Khadisan had told Isaac he'd meet his friends in Tallal, and he told himself that must mean they were all okay. He told Reyhan that she'd said he'd meet ALL his friends there.
He looked up again at the palace, and then around at the rest of the city. The great towering structure opposite the palace was the Mullaham -- the temple where Naridic people prayed to their desert god, Mullah. Isaac didn't really understand the religion but he assumed it had a great deal to do with the general craziness of everyone in this part of the world.
The Kishak army was only a few days away. Isaac encouraged the workers to go a little faster.
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