Suddenly, a voice called out and commanded with authority. ‘Salen go back. I'm in no danger. The warrior-woman is not a threat.’
As the last word echoed and faded, the Razorback paused for what seemed an eternity. Kira’s life flashed before her eyes as she sat watching the jagged, split snout closing. Then the obedient Razorback, licking its lips, withdrew slowly into the unseen depths of the cavern hissing, spitting flames and puffing smoke. Stunned and visibly shaken she gazed up into the sympathetic face of the newcomer – a beautiful young woman. She was tall and slim with dark hair, and a somewhat angular face.
‘You… you saved my life,’ she said bowing her head. ‘I'm Kira of Cardobia, searching for the one named Tanith. Are you she?’
The newcomer nodded. ‘Then you have found the one you seek, for I am Tanith, daughter of the man-god Roul,’ she revealed in softer tones than she had used to restrain the dragon, ‘and I've been expecting you.’
Kira looked quizzically at her. ‘You have? Then why was that thing trying to kill me?’
Tanith freed Kira's foot with her wooden staff. ‘Because I forgot to inform the Dark One of your coming and he's my protector.'
Gazing up into Tanith’s haunting eyes, Kira’s face was suddenly hard with purpose. ‘What is it that I must do in order to enlist your help on my venture?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. Not one single thing. I will give you my help freely and without cost,’ replied Tanith. ‘However, you must recruit the Dark One as your ally too.’
Kira’s face was suddenly grim. Everything normal, sensible and rational now seemed a world and a lifetime away. ‘I must seek the dragon's help too?' she whispered, dumbfounded by this revelation.
Tanith nodded. ‘I alone control the winds of this world, and I can propel you in any direction you desire, but you need something to travel on. And the only creature that can withstand the rigours of such a sustained flight is a Razorback-dragon.’
Her thirst for adventure suddenly quenched, Kira’s heart sank. ‘By all that’s sacred, the man-gods certainly know how to make a journey fun-filled, don’t they?’ she said, desperation in her voice. ‘Is there anything else I must do, besides the impossible task of talking that thing into giving me a ride on its back?’
Tanith smiled. ‘Have faith. Salen can be quite pleasant and good company. He was once a male, my husband, cursed by the man-gods after incurring their wrath.'
Kira stared thoughtfully, her eyes fever bright. ‘You mean the Salen isn’t really a dragon?’
Tanith shook her head. ‘No. The Mage Majiker’s curse is reversible. That which the man-gods did many years ago can be undone by solving a riddle. The problem is that the answer has eluded us for many, many years. We’ve never come close to solving it.’
Kira shivered from the coldness of the cave. ‘What is the riddle?’ she asked.
‘Simply this,’ replied the other. ‘What creature has four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon and three in the evening?’
A cold wind whispered into cave as Kira puzzled matters through for quite some time without making any sense of the riddle. ‘There’s no such thing,’ she announced finally. ‘For if there is, I've not heard of it.’
Tanith lifted the collar of her cloak, a draught chilling her neck. ‘Salen and I have been assured by the Oracles, time after time, that there is such a creature. Can you solve the riddle?’
Kira shook her head stiffly. ‘Not at this time,’ she said. ‘But I’ll go and collect my belongings from the edge of the pool, dress, eat and think upon it, for I think much better on a bellyful of meat.’
Disappointed and in despair, Tanith turned and walked off into the depths of the cave, while Kira limped off in the direction from which she had first come. And once again, two blood-red eyes stared from out of the darkness of the shadow, waiting and watching her every move. She stopped, turned and blinked hard, staring into the shadows of the cave. Did I really see those ghostly, haunting eyes staring at me, she thought?
Chapter 8
As the giant sun’s first rays burst over the countryside above the City of Thesbina – ancient capital of Gypt and a swarming, thriving metropolis of wonder – Dopiaza was in mid-argument with a Ranacunian trader about whether he wanted to sell his miners' oil lamp or not. The air was charged with emotion, besides the aromatic fragrance of exotic oils.
‘If I’ve told you once, you son of a camel, I’ve told you a thousand times, the lamp is not for sale. And even if it were, you idiot, your offer would still fail. For that which is within the vessel is worth more than a Star-piece ransom, and you, you imbecile, could not afford a price that is so handsome,’ Dopiaza snapped, staring icily at the trader.
‘But… but… I must have the miners' lamp. I’ll give thee anything to own it. Here look, take one of my mistresses,’ said the other, pointing in the direction of his abode. ‘No… no… take them all, I must have that lamp. I can get many more mistresses but, a lamp like the one about your person; well I have never in all my days seen such a more beautifully crafted thing.’
Dopiaza pointed his finger at the trader, the light of madness in his eyes. ‘There are six such vessels on this blue-blood world, and they’re all made of old rolled Starpieces, even though they look rusted. In each one a Mage awaits impatiently for commands with which he'll be entrusted. None of the Majiker’s will make us rich and mine won’t make me tall. He will however, help me out in a situation, whenever I call. So, I must keep my vessel until my journey is done. Then I’ll free the Mage when the Quest is won,’ he rhymed, munching on a fistful of wild unions and chives. The smell was delicious.
‘Will you stop rhyming and sell it to me,’ scolded the trader in a high pitched voice. He was annoyed and irritated and called upon man-god Loden to put a bitter curse upon the dwarf for not letting him have it. He marched up and down his brightly coloured tent waving his arms in the air, cursing. Then he called upon The Phinx, the almighty overseer and protector of Thesbina, never to let Dopiaza leave the city alive.
The dwarf shrugged; his eyes to the heavens. ‘The Mage Majiker is mine to keep, given to me by the man-gods, and neither Loden nor the Phinx shall change my mind or the odds. I‘m on a mission and will defy any law. I'll break any rule. Even suffer a war. So if the man-gods would see me ill done, I’ll still win the challenge and be the best when I’ve won.’
The trader pulled a curved dagger from his waistband, putting it to Dopiaza’s throat pricking the skin, lifting him to his toes. ‘If you don’t sell me the lamp, I’ll slice you from ear to ear. Now let me have it,’ he snapped.
The dwarf seemed frozen, taken completely by surprise. He stared into the others exasperated eyes.
‘Now what are you going to do, you cocky mongrel,’ asked the trader pricking the skin a little more, drawing blood, ‘would it not be wise and in your best interests to sell me that damn lamp, or would you rather bleed and die?’
Dopiaza had been in worse situations, but fear shone in his eyes. Recovering his composure quickly he seized the trader’s genitals and squeezed hard. The others eyes nearly popped out of his head, the pain registering in his brain immediately. ‘We’re not going to hurt each other – are we?’ he said, his voice a husky whisper. There was a mad gleam in his eyes.
The trader's high pitched screams startled the many onlookers. Heads turned. Some jumped as if slapped. He dropped the dagger, the pain swiftly filtering into his body.
Dopiaza rubbed his hand across his mouth as if trying to wipe a bad taste from his lips. ‘Now who’s got the upper hand, you scabby dog?’ he said, a wry smile etched on his weather-worn face. He twisted and squeezed harder. ‘I’ve told you the Mage is not for sale and I’ve meant every word I’ve said. So now if you understand me, just slowly nod your head. And when I release your genitals, you’d better limp away. Or else I'll squeeze them harder, forever and day.’
The trader nodded his head vigorously, just as the Oracle’s voice drifted into Dopiaza’s mind. ‘Ki
ra has been stopped temporarily, so make haste, for your time has come,’ he announced.
‘Don’t bother to say goodbye,’ sniped the dwarf releasing his grip.
The trader ran screaming from his tent and tripped over his own feet, hitting the ground hard, knocking himself unconscious.
‘I rally to the Quest gracefully, will endure the rain, wind and fire, the others may follow where I lead, if they so desire,’ said Dopiaza with all the enthusiasm of a child who had just found a bag of sweets. ‘I am a good male, fair male, kind male and a dwarf they should admire – happy too.’
In his time, he had been a mystic, a horse whisperer, a sailor and an acrobat in a group of travelling gypsies, entertaining the nobility of many a foreign land. Now he was a dwarf on a mission. He put his hand into his small leather knapsack and pulled out the runes, throwing them to the ground. They spun to the floor of the bazaar and one pointed in the direction of a distant pyramid shaped tower..
‘So, that’s where my destiny lies,’ he said, picking them back up. Wordlessly he left the trader where he lay with his expensive bottles of perfumes and exotic oils scattered about him in pieces. He marched off in the direction of the great stone monument. Then for several hours he marched on, out over the dunes in the blazing heat as it approached mid-day. His throat was bone dry, his feet on fire.
Finally, when he could endure the blazing heat no longer he decided to rest for a while. He stared up at a red sky, sucking in the dry air, struggling to breathe. Then he gazed out over the desolate desert sands hoping to find shelter nearby. There was none. A long sigh escaped from his choked throat. His eyes were bloodshot, swollen and sore from rubbing the sand out of them, and a ripple of apprehension shot down his spine. His shoulders sagged. And he quivered as if he were about to weep. Overwhelmed by the heat, he sipped a small amount of water from his canteen and pulled the hood of his tunic up over his head. But the giant sun was unforgiving.
Suddenly, without any warning his feet began to sink into the sand. ‘What the–?’ he said in a small voice, sinking deeper by the heartbeat.
Realising he was in serious trouble he struggled desperately. He sank further until the sand reached his knees. Panicking, he sank even faster, the sand now above his waistband. ‘Oh, this is not good. What’s happening to me? Someone please help. Help me get free,’ he said.
Twisting, turning and cursing colourfully he sank further still, until all that remained above the sand was his head. He was exhausted. Gasping for air like a fish out of water. Panic became fear. Fear became terror. Now he was too scared even to move.
‘Help,’ he whimpered, staring through large frightened eyes, thinking that he would never again see the snow-caped mountains of home.
Suddenly, he disappeared beneath the sand and began to suffocate. His lungs felt tight. They were on fire and about to burst. He was on the verge of passing out. Then his feet touched on something solid beneath him. He stopped sinking and began to rise.
Up, up, up he went slowly. And up further still as if by some miracle. Wiping the sand from his eyes he realised he was standing on the back of something gigantic. It began to shake violently. He was thrown clear and cascaded down a dune, head-over-heels, stopping at the bottom only after hitting his head on something hard. ‘Oh, I am more suited to map-making and puzzle solving than campaigns and quests. My easy temperament is greatly tested by long journeys and I am not feeling my best today,’ he said clutching his aching head.
A hot wind whispered across the dunes making him feel alone and friendless on a deserted landscape, twenty miles from where his journey had begun. His mind dizzy, he shook his head, his eyes not focusing too clearly. He rubbed the bump sprouting like a mushroom on the back of his head, and little by little his sight returned. Now he could see he wasn’t alone. He stared up into the brooding black eyes of a grey stone face.
The giant huffed, puffed and snarled. ‘Who dares rouse me from my sleep?’ it asked in a gruff threatening voice. ‘For three hundred years I have slept and for seven hundred more I would still sleep, had I not been awakened by you… ugly one.’
‘What… what are you?’ asked Dopiaza, his voice a quiver. He cowered beneath the granite colossus.
The thing studied him carefully. ‘I – am – the Phinx. The guardian and protector of Thesbina,’ it announced. Its voice was louder than thunder.
Dopiaza was pushed back a foot by its hot breath. ‘Guarding and protecting the city from what?’ he asked.
‘From war, pestilence and thieves like you. Or from anyone or anything that might harm the city and its inhabitants. That is my sole duty,’ it bellowed, almost blowing him off his feet.
Dopiaza stilled quickly, his face pallid.
The Phinx snarled and hissed. ‘Blue-bloods pain me dreadfully,' it said solemnly.
The other shook his head. ‘I am no thief. I am Dopiaza the hero-warrior and puzzle solver, now engaged upon a Quest, so step aside desert-giant and I’ll be on my way, for I am heading west,’ he said puffing out his chest, attempting to appear larger. He was terrified but showed no fear.
The Phinx loomed over him like a great cliff face, snarling and hissing. ‘Hero- warrior and puzzle solver? I have never heard of such a creature.’
Dopiaza's shoulders sagged. He sighed. ‘Tedious, time consuming and non-productive this conversation is,’ he whispered to himself, irritably drumming his fingers against his sculptured leather breastplate.
The Phinx howled and growled. ‘The only good warrior is a dead warrior, and I can remedy that.’
Dopiaza cowered, his lips trembling, eyes large and full of fear. However, he couldn’t resist one more mocking jibe. ‘You're a big bully and a hulky oaf. Why don't you go away and pick on something bigger than yourself, you coward?’ There was no hint of a rhyme.
The Phinx thrust its face closer, its hot breath burning him like fingers of molten steel upon his flesh. ‘Do not mock me, blue-blood. I am in the frame of mind to do you serious harm. You woke me from a sleep that should have lasted a thousand years, and I am in no mood for your – cocky rhetoric,' announced the Phinx.
Dopiaza huffed and puffed; his eyes fever bright shining with fear. ‘You expect me to take your insults because you’re so much bigger, you’re nothing but a bully, you overgrown stone figure,’ he said.
The Phinx thrust its face closer still, snarling louder, lifting one of its massive front legs. A giant stone foot hovered menacingly, casting a dark shadow. ‘One more clever utterance blue-blood and I will crush and bury you forever,’ it said, restlessly riddling in the sand.
Dopiaza was terrified, his body shaking. He knew he would be pushing his luck if he didn’t keep quiet. He didn’t say another word.
‘A wise decision on your part,’ offered the Phinx. For a moment neither spoke. It riddled uncomfortably and restlessly again.
Dopiaza drummed his fingers on his chest impatiently and each fixed the others gaze firmly, waiting. The giant was unlike anything he had ever seen – grey, unadorned and dull and there was an odd sour smell about its breath, sickly and unpleasant.
Finally, the Phinx broke the silence and snarled. ‘If you are on a Quest, I will let you live. And let you pass. If you can tell me how many grains of sand lay beneath our feet?’
Dopiaza stared at the Phinx, despair washing over him like a tidal wave. His heart sank as he racked his brains, trying to make sense of the impossible question. How can I answer such a thing? It’s unanswerable! I’m going to die this very day, he thought. How can anyone even know such a fact? For surely there must be as many grains of sand in a desert as there are stars in the sky.
Smugly, the Phinx watched him squirm, knowing there was no answer. It smiled in anticipation of crushing him to a pulp.
Dopiaza sweated, confused by the question. He scratched his head and thought for quite some time. Then he smiled weakly, staring hard at the giant. ‘I would have to say that the number of grains of sand beneath our feet would probably be – more t
han a little and less than a lot,’ he said sitting down on the ground, pulling a handful of wild unions and chives from his knapsack. He began munching on them merrily, closed his eyes and began to meditate, humming noisily. The rich smell filtered over the dunes.
The Phinx glared at him icily in silence, its face pinched in torment. It deliberated for quite some time on the answer given. It huffed and puffed and hummed noisily.
Finally, Dopiaza opened his eyes. ‘Well, is my answer correct?’
The Phinx snarled; thrusting its face towards him, knowing it had been outsmarted. 'It is not correct... but it is not incorrect either… and therefore I must accept it as an alternative answer. You are free to leave,’ it said wanting to crush him just for the sake of it.
Dopiaza breathed a sigh of relief and climbed to his feet. ‘I’m free to go?’ he asked, brushing the sand from his tunic.
The stone colossus hissed and roared, burying itself into the sand from whence it came. ‘As free as the air that surrounds you. Now go from this place! Before I change my mind and crush you to pulp anyway!’ it said, disappearing from sight. It howled. ‘Sleep! Sleep! Another seven hundred years of sleep. And no-one had better disturb me again, lest I really lose my temper!’ Then it was gone.
Dopiaza set off again, angling his journey towards the same great pyramid tower, across an endless sea of sand with the sun growing ever hotter. Then for a further two hours he suffered the unbearable heat, crossing mile upon mile of desert with his throat parched, his feet aching and his mind on fire, until finally he stood in the shade of the tower. He was awed by the sheer size of it. What need could possibly justify the building of such a huge monument, he thought?
He peered out into the desert, scanning the sea of sand from horizon to horizon. There wasn’t another soul to be seen. It was disconcerting to him, and once again he felt alone and friendless as memories of his comrades flared, making him feel extremely sad. He even missed Ofash’s harsh manner. Then his daydreaming came to an abrupt end when a gruff voice from behind, startled him. ‘What is your business here?’ it asked.
The Blackhawks Impossible Quest Page 9
