The Silas Kane Scrolls (Authors and Dragons Origins Book 2)

by Rick Gualtieri

  “Twareg is a god of valor, not vengeance,” I bellowed.

  “Yes! Beat me with his valor, too.”

  “What? No. Twareg doesn’t smite people simply because he can.”

  Silas nodded vigorously. “Of course not, mighty Grimstrike. I am not worthy of being beaten by him. You do it!”

  “I’m not going to beat you.”

  “Praise Twareg!” he screamed. “For I am not even worthy to be pummeled by his servant.”

  “That isn’t what I meant.” This was getting me nowhere. I had thought that by appearing as myself I might get through to him, but he had an insane answer for every nugget of common sense I threw his way. Much as I despised Coyn for what he’d done to the boy, I had to admit he’d been thorough. I had never seen a mind as badly poisoned as Silas’s. It was as if he’d been born an empty wineskin, which they’d filled with nothing but the maniacal teachings of those at the shrine. And now every fiber of his being was saturated with it.

  It was going to take a great deal of work on my part to scrub it all out of him. I realized too late that doing so as a demigod was also a mistake. Silas considered himself to be a lowly dog. So perhaps that’s how he needed to be taught, from the ground up.

  I considered where we were and the nearest city to us, and a plan began to form – one that would almost certainly open Silas’s eyes to the wider world around him.

  Once more gathering power around me, I looked down upon him and let my voice boom out across the forest.

  “Listen and listen well. Twareg has a mission for you.”

  MISSION OF MISERY

  The port city of Kel appeared somewhat unremarkable upon first glance. Considered small by city standards, it was originally founded as little more than a fishing village on the shores of the Direblood Estuary.

  It might have stayed that way indefinitely, as the surrounding land was too acidic for crops – thanks to a persistent infestation of pepper grubs – and the nearby forest made for dangerous hunting because of the presence of feral goblin tribes.

  Due to its unique location, though, Kel eventually evolved into the gateway between the Kingdom and the strange lands across the sea. However, the captains that put into port weren’t usually interested in spice or gems. Their commodity of choice was flesh. As a result, a vibrant slave trade had arisen in Kel. There, humanoids of all shapes and sizes could be bought and sold for the right price.

  If you needed strong backs for your field, Kel was the place to buy them. If you were looking for exotic wenches to work your brothels, a trip to Kel would serve you well.

  So it was that the city grew and prospered, built upon the backs of those sold within its marketplace. And so too did Kel earn its nickname – the city of tears. For though some grew fat and rich within its walls, the suffering of the vast majority was great indeed.

  Truly theirs was a sad fate, for though there were many within the Kingdom sympathetic to the plight of slaves, there was little that anyone would do to stop it so long as the gold continued to flow.

  I explained all of this to Silas, or tried to in between his constant interruptions to praise Twareg. I swear, I once thought it impossible to tire of hearing my lord’s name, but this fool was rapidly testing my limits.

  “I think I understand,” he said at last.

  “Do you really?”

  “Yes. You want me to go to Kel so I can convert both the slaves and their masters over to Twareg.”

  “What?! No, you bloody fool! That’s not even remotely what I said. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of slaves within the city and all of them are suffering.”

  “Because they haven’t read the One True Book of...?”

  “No! Because they’re beaten to within an inch of their lives on a regular basis.” Upon seeing Silas’s eyes light up, I quickly added, “And they don’t enjoy it.”

  Finally, some semblance of understanding began to appear on the imbecile’s face. “Ah, I get it now.”

  “I can only pray that you do. Know this: despite all the shit that’s been poured into your ears, Twareg is a god of valor and honor. And there is no honor among those sons of drow bitches who run that place. Most are godless dogs, stealing children in the night so as to profit off their backs. You are a paladin in our lord’s name, are you not?”

  “I am not worthy to be called...”

  “It’s a yes or no question!”

  “Oh.” He looked confused for a moment. “Um, then I guess I am.”

  “Good enough.” I placed a hand upon Silas’s shoulder and let a small sliver of my lord’s grace pass into the boy, hoping I didn’t regret this. “Then hear me, oh mighty paladin. Great are the number of those who suffer in Kel. I charge you, in Twareg’s name, with helping to ease ... nay ... end that suffering for as many as you are able to.”

  Faint thunder sounded in the distance as I let the weight of my words sink in, hoping he understood the gravity of what I was asking.

  “And then convert them to Twareg?” Silas asked sheepishly.

  I glanced longingly at my axe, but somehow managed to stay my hand. “Yes, okay. Fine. If you can convert them to Twareg, do it. But only as a side quest! First and foremost is their suffering. Take care of that, and I won’t give an owlbear’s ass who they do or don’t worship. Is that clear?”

  Silas furrowed his brows for several seconds, as if testing out the concept of thought. Finally, he stood up tall. “Yes. My mission is clear. I shall end the suffering of those in Kel.”

  “Good. Then be off with you ... now!”

  Silas grabbed his belongings and ran off into the forest without any further hesitation.

  “To the south, you fucking twat!” I screamed after him.

  “Thank you, servant of Twareg!” he shouted back, quickly changing direction.

  I took several deep breaths to steady my nerves. There was no doubt I’d need to keep tabs on the boy, but it would have to be done subtly. I’d already interfered more than enough. This quest was his and his alone.

  I reached out with my senses, but all was silent once more. The divine thunder I’d heard moments earlier had quieted, telling me that perhaps my lord agreed with this course of action, for now anyway. At the very least, he was hopefully taking a wait and see approach.

  If successful, the boy would bring succor to those in need. In doing so, I hoped it would lead to an epiphany regarding his own life. I envisioned a future where Silas threw off the yoke of his oppressors and became a true champion of the downtrodden, devoting himself to helping those less fortunate than he. That would be quite the satisfactory outcome, not to mention a kick in the balls to those fucks back at the shrine.

  Of course, first he had to actually get there and then somehow manage to not tick off the city guard. But one step at a time.

  I prepared to abandon my flesh and soar once more above the world, but then my eyes spied the casket of ale. Silas hadn’t touched his share.

  Would be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides, I’d earned a couple of stiff drinks.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Silas continued heading to the southwest. Though there were trails to follow, not to mention an actual road leading to Kel, he kept to the forest – heading straight and true – pausing to thank Twareg for every branch that slapped him in the face, every root that tripped him, and every bird that shat upon his head.

  Incorporeal again, having shed my earthly form, I caught up with him some days later when he was still a few miles from his destination. He was filthy from his trip, but seemed to be in good spirits. Though I couldn’t read the hearts and minds of mortals, I prayed that he’d taken some time to think about what we’d spoken of. If even a single sentence I’d told him had sunk in, it would be a positive start.

  It was nearly dusk when his path led him from the forest and to the main road leading to Kel. Though it was still too far away to smell the salt water of the estuary, the chill that rolled off the water could be felt in the air.

  “
Who goes there?” a voice cried out from ahead.

  Two shapes approached from out of the shadows. Beyond them, a fire illuminated several covered wagons that had stopped along the road for the night.

  “If you’re a thief, know that the only treasure waiting here is the iron we’ll use to run you through,” the second guard called out.

  “May Twareg bless you,” Silas greeted back.

  “Who?” the first, a gorilla of a man, asked, his hand resting on the sword at his side.

  “Twareg,” Silas explained. “The great god of dwarves who oversees the universe and...”

  “You don’t look like a dwarf.”

  “I’m not worthy to be one and, for that, my punishment is eternal.”

  The two guards glanced at each other, as if debating whether to welcome this stranger or cut him down. But then another man approached from the direction of the fire. “What’s going on over here?”

  “Our apologies, Mr. Festivus,” the first guard said. “This man approached us from the woods. We were making sure he wasn’t a bandit.”

  “Are you?” The newcomer, Festivus, turned toward Silas. He was short and plump, with white hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Where the guards wore shoddy leather armor, he was clothed in the fine robes of a merchant.

  “He’s no bandit,” the second guard replied, “just some idiot who thinks he’s a dwarf.”

  Festivus scowled at the man. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then assume I didn’t want it.” He again addressed Silas. “So you think you’re a dwarf?”

  “Of course not,” Silas said with a laugh. “I am not worthy to be among the chosen people. I’m merely a lowly warrior in the service of Twareg.”

  “And what is your name, lowly warrior?”

  “Silas Kane.”

  “Well met, Silas Kane.” He held out a hand. “They call me Maximus Festivus, or Max Fest to my friends, because I know a good time when I see it.”

  “A good time?” Silas asked, sounding confused.

  “Yes, my new friend. A good time, such as sharing a meal and perhaps a story around the fire. Why, I was just wishing for some company to pass the time with, and then you came along. Please, come join me.”

  Silas turned and pointed down the road. “I’m heading to Kel on a holy mission. I shouldn’t...”

  “Quite the fortunate coincidence, then,” Max said, clapping his hands together in glee. “We’re heading there, too. But the roads are a treacherous place at night and my cargo is precious.” He turned and indicated the covered wagons. “How about this? Rest up here where it’s safe. If you’re insistent on earning your keep, you can accompany us to Kel in the morning. Another strong arm standing guard during these last few miles wouldn’t be unwelcome.”

  I was curious to hear what Silas would say. But after a moment’s consideration, he nodded and followed Max back to the fire.

  “Come,” his host said, passing a bowl of stew. “Sit and regale us with tales of your travels to pass the time.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Two hours later, Silas was still talking about Twareg. By then, the guards had all retreated to the far edges of the fire’s light. Though they told their master that it was to better keep watch, their faces said otherwise as Silas continued to tirelessly proselytize.

  “...and it is by the command of his righteous fury that I make my journey,” Silas said, finally pausing to drink some water, his voice having grown hoarse some time ago.

  “Huh?” Max perked up from where he’d nodded off and blinked several times to clear the cobwebs. “Truly a fascinating tale, good warrior.”

  “I am happy to tell you more if...”

  “No!” Max cried, a look of panic in his eyes that he quickly covered up. “What I meant to say is perhaps I can hear more later. Truly your knowledge of things spiritual is ... staggering. Alas, my own business in Kel is somewhat more practical in nature. I’m looking to sell my wares at a profit during the...”

  “What greater profit could there be than giving your heart to Twareg?”

  Several groans could be heard from the far edges of the camp.

  “Not this again.”

  “Doesn’t he ever shut up?”

  “Should have cut him down when we had the chance.”

  If Silas heard them, he gave no indication. He continued to prattle on, heedless of what his host had to say.

  At last, Max held up a hand. “I think I’ve heard all I need. It’s getting late and an old man like me needs his rest. Please, join me for a drink so that we might toast our good fortune in meeting one another.”

  “The clerics of the shrine allowed me to drink from the dish water bucket whenever I felt parched. If you have some, I would be happy to toast...”

  “I’m fresh out of dish water, sadly. But that’s okay. Only the finest wine for my friends.” Max clapped his hands and one of his servants approached carrying two cups. He handed one to his master and one to Silas.

  The young warrior looked at it dubiously. “I’ve never tasted this beverage before, but I’m fairly sure it’s sinful.”

  “Sinful? Are you saying it’s wrong to raise a toast with your new ... converts? Because, I like what I’m hearing about this Twareg. But if you’re saying we can’t, then maybe I should think twice...”

  “No!” Silas’s eyes opened wide and he quickly raised his glass. “Let us to toast to the greatness that is Twareg!” He took a gulp of the wine, slugging it back as fast as he could.

  Max smiled and put his cup down. “Very good. Come, my friend. Before we turn in, I’d like to show you my wares.”

  He stood and led Silas over to the largest of his wagons. He lifted the cover at the rear, revealing the iron door of a cage. Inside, packed in tightly, were several filthy men and women. They all cowered away from the door as they caught sight of Maximus, their eyes downcast and frightened.

  “So, tell me, Silas. What do you think?”

  The young warrior stared hard at the cage and its inhabitants for several seconds before turning to the slave master. “’Tis a fine home. Why, had I even dreamt of such luxurious quarters as a boy, I’d have been whipped for the sin of avarice.”

  “Excuse me?” Max asked, sounding taken aback.

  Silas began to sway on his feet. “Yes, were I raised in such finery, I would have considered myself rich indeed. But then, wealth is a sin, so ... it ... is ... perhaps for the ... best.” He shook his head, his eyelids beginning to droop.

  Max grinned back, his smile suddenly predatory. “I see. And if you were to find yourself in there, among your new ... brothers and sisters ... do you think you would still sing the praises of your god?”

  “Sing ... the praises of Twareg?” Silas slurred. “I would ... scream ... to the ... heavens about ... the glory that is...”

  I couldn’t help but think he would have surely admonished himself for not finishing that sentence, but the poor fool was too busy passing out from the obviously drugged wine he’d been fed.

  PRISONER OF (T)WAR(EG)

  A part of me felt bad for Silas, but he’d brought it upon himself. Besides, I quickly realized this new situation might prove even better for his education. It was a chance for him to see the true suffering of others up close. Nevertheless, I planned to keep an eye on him. I’d led him to this place and wouldn’t abandon him so easily, especially after the ordeal he’d suffered growing up.

  Silas’s eyes fluttered as the morning sun rose, and he awoke to find himself inside the same cage he’d been shown some hours earlier. My heart broke as he looked down upon his scarred body and the filthy loincloth he now wore, no doubt realizing all of his worldly possessions had been stolen from him.

  Understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes as he found himself surrounded by slaves. Most refused to meet his eyes, as if ashamed they didn’t try to warn him of the fate which had befallen him.

  He continued to look around, taking stock of his misfor
tune. I expected disbelief or a wail of grief, for what else could one do in such a situation? But once again, I was wrong.

  “Praise Twareg!”

  One of the slaves, older than the rest and perhaps a little bolder because of it, stepped to Silas’s side. “Shh! Be quiet. The master doesn’t like us to speak.”

  Silas pulled himself to his feet and stretched as well as he could in the cramped confines of the wagon cage. “I would sooner slit my own throat than not sing the praises of Twareg.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  Silas turned to find one of the guards from the night before standing outside the cage doors. “Good morning to you, friend.”

  “Shut up, slave!”

  “Perhaps we didn’t properly meet last night. My name is Silas Kane. I am a paladin of...”

  The guard jabbed a wooden staff through the bars, slamming it into Silas’s gut and driving him to his knees. “You don’t have a name until your new master gives you one.”

  “Thank you, Twareg,” Silas gasped.

  “And stop thanking your god. He can’t help you now.”

  Silas laughed and stood back up. “Of course not. Twareg doesn’t help filth such as me. He would sooner throw me into his divine chamber pot and defecate upon me for eternity. It is what makes him so glorious. If you will kindly give me my scripture back, I would be happy to explain.”

  “Your scripture?” the guard asked with a laugh. “You mean that paper I wiped my ass with this morning? As for the rest of your stuff, it’s ours now. Slaves don’t own shit unless we feed it to them. What do you think about that?”

  Amazingly, Silas smiled back. “That’s fine. I know it all by heart anyway. I’ll happily recite it to you as we journey onward.”

  The guard looked like he was about to strike Silas again, as if that would do any good, but then he abruptly turned as Maximus stepped into view. “How goes our newest acquisition?”

  “We might need to cut this one’s tongue out,” the guard replied. “In fact, I’m sure we will.”