|
Untitled Document
“His Majesty wants us to do what?!”
“You heard me, Sutek. Now go get the scarab….”
“But we can’t just send away such an important
artifact on a childish whim! I tell you, it’s madness!”
Barca drew herself up to her full height and
stared the Nimmo straight in the eye. Her gaze was notoriously menacing around
the palace, and nobody stood in the determined young Acara’s way for long. It
was believed by some that she could bring a rampaging barbarian army to a standstill
just by looking at them, a theory that had yet to be proven wrong.
“Sutek,” she intoned darkly, “think what you
will of the king, but do not insult his judgement before me. Do we understand
one another?”
Sutek swallowed hard and tried to recompose himself.
“Yes… I understand… but… you see… His Majesty’s orders… well… seem a little…”
“His Majesty’s orders seem a little unclear
to you, Sutek. You and your court mages are to teleport the Scarab of Coltzan
I north of here, to his twin brother, Luparn of Meridell. Is that clear?”
Sutek could stand no more. “Listen to what you’re
saying, Barca! Twin brother! Luparn! Meridell! It’s all nonsense! That boy has
been acting strangely ever since he fell ill as a child! If you ask me the fever
went to his brain….”
“I’M NOT ASKING YOU, I’M TELLING YOU!” Barca
exploded, the words echoing down the corridors. Sutek backed off, stunned, his
head pounding from the violent tirade. “There are things, Sutek, that even you
and your mages do not know. I am very close to Coltzan, and as such am privy
to matters outside your station. And I know that His Majesty is not a mad pet.
He is wise and good, but he is in extraordinary peril, threatened by forces
beyond even his knowing. We are all but pawns in a very dangerous game, and
now our king is in check.”
Sutek shook his head, confused. “I don’t understand,
Barca. I can see no hope for victory when we are losing to an enemy we cannot
see.”
“But we aren’t losing, Sutek,” said the Acara
with a sly smile. “We just haven’t been playing with all of our pieces yet.”
* * *
“What shall we do, your majesty?” asked Merlod. “Jhunedra’s magic can only
shield us for so long before Inclementa manages to break the spell. If we continue
on and enlist the aid of your brother, Mordeo’s forces will surely see us on
our return journey and prepare themselves accordingly.”
“But on the other hand,” Kithar pointed out,
“if we return to Meridell now, we will be forced to battle with what few defenders
Lord Sarkif has left. The odds are not favourable in either case.”
Sitting on a nearby rock, Luparn was deep in
thought. He could not deny the wisdom of either Merlod or Kithar. And there
was little time for choices. Would an all-out battle in full force be wiser,
or should he risk a sneak attack with tired and demoralized troops? He had to
make a decision soon. The longer he hesitated, the less time he had to spare.
There suddenly came a soft thud in front of him.
He opened his eyes and peered at the ground. A strangely shaped gold medallion
was lying at his feet. It looked like an odd sort of beetle with a large red
jewel imbedded in its shell. Carefully, he picked it up. It was warm to the
touch.
“Merlod, Kithar, come here,” he called the two
over.
“What is it?” they both answered as they ambled
over.
Luparn held out the jewel for them to see. “I
was hoping you two would be the ones to answer that question, actually. Any
idea what this strange little trinket is?”
“Where did you find it?” Kithar asked immediately,
as Merlod adjusted his spectacles and looked at it closely.
“It just landed in front of me… practically
came out of nowhere….”
“A teleportation spell, no doubt,” Merlod proclaimed
without hesitancy. “And by its appearance, I would say it’s a Sakhmetian artifact….”
“Are you sure it just appeared there, Luparn?”
questioned Kithar, searching for greater verification. “Are you sure it wasn’t
there before?”
“Come now, Kithar, of course it wasn’t there
before,” Merlod swiftly countered. “What would a gold scarab from Sakhmet be
doing over a thousand miles away from the Lost Desert?”
Luparn narrowed his eyes and looked at the scarab.
Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw something flicker within the depths
of the fiery gem.
“What are you doing with that, Luparn? Put it
down, it could be dangerous….”
“Nonsense, Kithar, it’s obviously a gift from
Sakhmet to aid us on our journey.…”
“It’s a message.”
Image by Shelleylow
Merlod and Kithar stopped their arguing and looked
at Luparn, who was staring, transfixed, into the scarab.
“It’s a message,” he repeated, looking up. “We’re
going back to Meridell.”
Kithar frowned. “But I thought we were going
to find your brother….”
“I thought so too, at first,” Luparn replied.
“But it all makes sense now.”
“How so?” Merlod inquired.
“My brother cannot leave the city of Sakhmet.
His every move is dogged by Inclementa. Even if he wanted to, he could not lead
his armies to battle with us until she has been dealt with.”
“Then what are you doing all the way out here?
You and Merlod should have stayed back with Sarkif!”
“No. We’re exactly where we ought to be. Don’t
you see, Kithar? If we had not left when we did, what do you think would have
happened to us when Mordeo attacked Sarkif’s castle?”
Kithar only stared quietly ahead. “But what about
Jhunedra’s prophecy? It said the twins had to be united. How can we fulfill
the prophecy when you two are a thousand miles distant?”
Luparn held up the small jeweled scarab. “This
must be the key to victory. Who else but my brother could have sent it directly
to me? If nothing else, he is with me in spirit, and that is enough for me.”
He turned to Merlod. “Do you have any magic bottles back at your hut, old friend?”
“Magic bottles? What in blazes do you want….
Oh.” Realization crept over the Aisha’s face and twisted it into a mischievous
grin. “I think I just might. Hehehe. Oh yes, I think I just might.”
* * *
“INCLEMENTA!” bellowed Mordeo from his throne, in a voice so loud that the
little trickster of a light Faerie could have probably heard it had she been
as far away as Sakhmet, which was most likely where she was.
Nevertheless, Mordeo’s call did not go unanswered.
“My liege beckons?” came her whisper-like voice, aglow with sarcasm, from some
unspecified corner of the throne room.
“Inclementa, where is Sarkif’s son? You promised
me I’d have him on the rack within the hour. That was yesterday.”
Inclementa gritted her teeth. The nerve of that
fat fool, bossing her about like some degenerate underling! She could blast
him atom from atom with a wave of her finger, massive as he was! Were it not
for the fact that he was yet useful, she would probably have done so by now,
and she had a good mind to let him know it, too!
“Please have patience, my Lord,” (Ha! My
Lard is more like it!) “Our enemies have the help of the prophet Jhunedra.
She has shielded them from my sight, and I can do little until I break her spell.”
“I’m fast running out of patience,” Mordeo growled.
“I can’t afford to have an adversary running loose around my countryside, especially
this adversary in particular. I thought you told me you could deal with Jhunedra.”
“I can, sire. But it will take time. She is
very clever. Her enchantments are notorious for their complexity.…”
“How long are you going to take? How much more
patience must I dole out before I see some results?”
“It is difficult to say. Jhunedra is more resourceful
than I first anticipated.…”
“ANSWER THE QUESTION!”
Keeping her smouldering temper in check, she
made her reply through a great effort of self-control. “Two days at the very
least.”
She waited for the violent onslaught of vulgarity
to end before she dropped the Draik a tidbit of good news. “It’s likely,” she
said, “that they will be heading for Sakhmet in an attempt to enlist Coltzan’s
aid. I will have the spell broken long before they can return in force. Rest
easy, Mordeo. We will have plenty of time to prepare for their arrival. They
will not cross your borders armed.”
Mollified, the king slumped back in his seat
with a thud. “Hmph,” he snorted. “Very well then. But no more excuses, my dear,
or I’ll have to find you a replacement.”
Inclementa knew what happened to those who needed
‘replacing’ in Mordeo’s court. Job openings were frequently advertised by the
various ghastly noises that echoed up from the lower dungeons. Not that she
was concerned at all about that. He couldn’t lay a claw on her if he wanted
to.
“By the way, your majesty,” she added, remembering
something before she exited the chamber, “I have a little present for you.”
She tossed him an opal amulet on a gold chain. It bounced quite nicely on his
protruding gut before settling down.
“What is this?” he asked, holding up the jewel
to the light. It scintillated with a brilliant luster despite its opacity.
Just a little trinket I happened to come across.
It gives the wearer immense physical strength and stamina.”
The king cocked his head to the side. “This tiny
thing will make me strong?”
“Strong as a Skeith, my sovereign.” That
way you’ll have more in common than just looking like one, she thought as
she left.
To be continued...
| 
