The Melaki Chronicle Volume II

by William Thrash

  Melaki stopped before the thickly-bearded man. “The king's personal guard captain?”

  The man nodded. “Subcommander Finli. I will command the Callacan forces in support.”

  Melaki nodded. The man was certainly capable if he commanded the king's personal guard. “Ever fought a demon before?” His tone was dry.

  Finli did not even blink. “Stab something enough times and it will die. But our purpose is to see you into the palace. Dosdaran would then have us withdraw.”

  He grunted. “I suppose all the swords and arrows would just be in our way, anyway.”

  A raise of the eyebrows in doubt was the only answer.

  He led the way away from the capital, and along the rising road into the hills.

  * * *

  Adaris rode behind the cart driven by Galli. He still was stunned that Elleri had been a spy for the king. He should have suspected. He should have wondered. His network was good, but did not extend into the Callacan palace.

  Did the Callacan spy network extend into the palace at Cunei? They had known he was coming.

  Elleri had been so convincing as one who barely existed in life, frail and weak. Trying to live to see another day. Fragile and needing protection. And then she had stepped from behind Dosdaran, her posture confident, her eyes weighing. Completely unlike the Elleri he had fallen in love with.

  Had he loved her? Had he loved her fragility? Had he loved her sense of wonder which had all been a ruse? Had he loved her features? Without a doubt, the Elleri he knew had died yesterday, replaced with a calculating woman who had lied to him.

  That she helped him make the right decision was of no consequence; she had acted only in the interests of her king. If he had sent the scrolls, would she have plunged a dagger into him herself?

  “By the gods, what a mess.”

  “What?” Galli said over his shoulder.

  “How did it all come to this?”

  “You did what you were told. Some rulers are bad, seeking only the satisfaction of their whims.”

  “Why do the bad rule?”

  Galli shrugged. “Decent people do not want the hassle. Bad people revel in the power. Power attracts corrupt men like vultures to corpses.”

  Melaki dropped back beside the cart. “What are you babbling about?”

  “I am telling Adaris about rulers, master.”

  “You think he does not know?”

  “He asked.”

  Adaris said, “But I knew the answer. I saw it all the time in my reports. I should have expected that one day I would receive an evil order.”

  The wizard looked back at him. “I am sure you are suffering the shock of the bad thing being done to you.”

  He nodded. “I thought myself above the bad.”

  “We are all pawns of those who control us.” The wizard frowned and turned away.

  * * *

  The demon Goroth waddled beside Ralial in Pruflas' abode. “Am I to understand your plan worked?”

  “It did,” said Ralial.

  Was he lying?

  Goroth scratched his chin. “I did not expect success.”

  Ralial made a spirit-view, a hole in the air above the real landscape of the territories belonging to Pruflas. He stabbed his finger down, the view rushing in closer. “There.”

  Goroth looked, truly surprised, as a force of Callacans moved towards the border with Vattonses. But... something did not look right. “That does not look like a very sizable force.”

  Ralial released the view very suddenly. “The Callacans must still believe they need to have a presence on their Asturjani border.”

  Goroth heaved a roll of fat in impatience. “Will that force be enough--”

  “We have done what we can and the forces are in motion. I would assume Lagash will respond.”

  The fat demon eyed the little insect Ralial. Was he lying or not? His view showed forces moving, though not very many. He turned his head away, addressing Ralial's conjecture. “I agree. His borders are undefended. The few town guards along the border can not stop an invasion. If he responds with troops, he must weaken the border with the Atlanteans. If he goes himself, so much the better.”

  “Ah... and there he is.”

  Lagash strode up to them in the spirit. He was using a projection of spirit while his body remained in the throne room at Galvir. His sneer was exaggerated and condescending. “You two can not plan your way past my victory.”

  “Lagash,” said Goroth, “you are weak and the Great Lord--”

  “Lucifer shall favor me.” He sounded sure of it.

  “You forget your station, little one.”

  Goroth's insult caused Lagash's features to crumple in anger and hate. “Your time spent ruling is over. You have been ineffectual.”

  “My army shall crush yours.”

  Ralial remained silent.

  Lagash stood taller, looking down at the fat demon. “You have underestimated me.”

  Goroth waved as if a stink was drifting across his nose. “You are brash, unthinking and out of control. You have taken the flesh--”

  Lagash's shout echoed through the halls of the spiritual palace. “I will be king!”

  Both Goroth and Ralial knew he meant king of just more than the Vattonses.

  “You will attract the displeasure of Pruflas--”

  Lagash leaned over the fat demon. “Are you afraid, fat one?”

  Goroth raised a flabby chin. They could not fight here. “You are overmatched. I will delight in carving up your principality.”

  “You are overextended. Even your fat can not help you in this fight.” Lagash sneered, then vanished.

  Ralial wrung his hands. “What if he is right?”

  Goroth wondered for the thousandth time how Ralial had been selected to oversee Tartessan. “Lagash will fall. He is in flesh-form.”

  * * *

  Melaki watched the Callacans make camp amongst the trees. Galli and Adaris were with him. They were stopped on the Min River at Oran. The town was near.

  “I do not fancy sleeping in a tent,” said Melaki.

  “Nor do I,” said Eliam, “after having slept in one for half of my one hundred year term.”

  He nodded. “Then we shall go find us an inn.”

  Eliam gave a discerning frown and nodded. “We shall create a tavern brawl.”

  “Why would you do such a thing?” Galli said.

  Eliam shrugged. “What are they going to do, banish us?”

  Melaki looked at the former soldier sideways. “Try not to hurt anyone. I only desire a relaxing drink by the fire.”

  Eliam rubbed his hands.

  Oran was a compact town surrounded by sprawling farms. Pear orchards ringed as far as the eye could see. Someone was burning brush by the entrance, and a lively little bonfire with townspeople and jugs were circling it. Two guards leaned idly at the gateway, obviously wanting to be with the revelers. They eyed Melaki's party with suspicion, most of their gaze resting on him.

  “Hail, Wizard of Atlantis. Is this an official--”

  Melaki was waving them off. “I am a Callacan citizen. We seek shelter for the night.”

  The two guards looked at each other confused and let him pass. An official visit was announced. Other than that, the gatekeepers kept an orderly procession in or out at the gate. If Melaki was not an official of the Atlantean Empire, then they had no direct orders to stop him for any other reason.

  Unless I was threatening to torch the walls.

  What looked cramped on the outside was even more cramped inside. The smells of the town assaulted them as they wound through people and past carts – the smells of food and fire and waste.

  “Smells like an Asturjani camp,” said Eliam.

  Adaris chuckled.

  Melaki looked up. “The buildings are too close.”

  Eliam waved him off. “I do not give three hairs off the testicles of a rat how close the buildings are.”

  Galli snorted so hard he was wiping his nose.


  He pulled them towards the first tavern, a large building with a sunken first floor. They stepped down to the entry and pushed in to noise, warmth and human communication, if slurred with drink.

  Melaki saw the fire and a chair next to it. He grinned and hurried to the bar. “Two mugs of something strong.” He placed his coin down.

  The barkeep was an older man, balding. Perhaps six hundred years old or older. He looked at the newcomers with a practiced eye that was worried.

  Melaki still rested his fingertips on the coin. He pushed them towards the barkeep with an obvious motion.

  The man grunted. “Eh, well.” He poured two mugs from a cask and slid them to Melaki.

  Eliam was still at the doorway, looking around.

  Melaki carried his drinks over to the hearth and sat next to the heat.

  Galli ordered his own drink with the barkeep.

  “This town,” shouted Eliam, smile on his face, “smells like unwashed ass.”

  Silence descended over the tavern. Several chairs scraped back as strapping men rose. But one rose taller than the others.

  A mountain of muscle moved toward Eliam, each step a movement of effort as if each leg weighed as much as a horse.

  Several in the tavern laughed in scorn at Eliam.

  The former subcommander looked up at the large man. “By the gods, what manner of brainless giant birthed you?”

  Rage overtook the man's face. Apparently he did not like being linked to the giants.

  Melaki sipped from his mug. The drink was passable. I should have ordered the good stuff.

  Galli sat next to him and shook his head at Eliam. Adaris stood next to the fire, drinking nothing.

  He put his hand on his assistant's arm. “Leave him. He has all cause.”

  “Then he should have brawled with Dosdaran.”

  “I would not have stopped them.”

  Galli coughed. “The guard would have poked him full of holes.”

  Melaki nodded. “And he knew it. He has a grudge; let him exact his price.”

  The mountain stopped in front of Eliam. It breathed as if having extreme difficulty breathing, all the while flexing muscles.

  Eliam sneered at the man. “Oh, I have offended you? Is that your ass I smell all over town?”

  With a roar, the mountain launched a fist. It connected solidly with Eliam's hardened leather breastplate. The veteran went flying backwards, arms and legs horizontal with the force of the blow.

  “Ow,” Galli said. “That was a short fight.”

  “Oh, I imagine Eliam has more in him than that.” Melaki raised his mug towards the soldier.

  Eliam stood back up and ran at the mountain. A smashing blow to the jaw had him flying back to where he had just gotten up.

  “Ouch,” said Galli.

  Melaki frowned. “I can heal a dislodged tooth, but he would need to have it with him. Did you see any teeth flying?”

  “No,” said Adaris.

  Eliam got back up, again, but this time paced forward, slowly. There was a wariness in his step.

  Adaris leaned forward. “He knows the moves?”

  “Hmm?” said Melaki.

  “Look.” The spy was keenly interested in Eliam at the moment.

  Indeed, the soldier moved with a grace and stance he had yet to see. His sword still hung in its scabbard and his hands were up as if to indicate he did not need his sword. Melaki took another sip and grimaced at the flavor.

  Maybe Eliam was wrong. It might be this drink that is causing the ass-smell.

  Eliam gracefully sidestepped another ham-fisted punch and delivered four vicious punches of his own into mountain's gut. Stepping past, he launched an elbow hard backwards, connecting with mountain's kidney.

  Adaris was nodding, his eyes alight. “Yes, yes, yes. That is how it is done.”

  Mountain growled in outrage and his face twisted in rage.

  Eliam smoothly stepped back, hands still up. “Aw, did I hurt your feelings?”

  Showing teeth, mountain lunged, arms wide.

  Eliam smirked. Stepping aside and ducking, he put a leg out and gripped mountain's arm. Pulling him over the leg, mountain went tumbling.

  “That was a good one,” said Melaki.

  Eliam stood with his back to mountain and lifted his chin to the room. “Anyone else?”

  Mountain was fast. Rolling, he whipped a hand out and grabbed Eliam's boot. The veteran went down.

  Startled, Eliam twisted. Mountain was pulling him towards him.

  “That is not a good position,” said Adaris.

  Eliam's foot battered at mountain's ugly face but the pile of muscle kept pulling. Then Eliam used his fist to ram into mountain's face. Four rapid strikes, but muscle-head soaked it all.

  Galli shook his head. “I think that head is all bone.”

  “He should have struck the throat,” said Adaris.

  Melaki shook his head. “I told him not to hurt anyone.”

  Mountain gripped Eliam's head and brought theirs together in a loud crack.

  “Was that a tooth?” said Melaki.

  “It was,” said Adaris.

  “Get it, Galli. I will need to heal him.”

  “Yes, master.” The assistant scrambled after the errant tooth.

  Eliam was dazed.

  Mountain picked him up.

  Adaris looked panicked.

  Before anyone could move to intercept, mountain brought Eliam's back down across his knee. A sharp crack and cry from Eliam told everyone his back had been broken.

  Mountain dropped the crippled veteran to the ground and raised his foot over Eliam's throat.

  An unseen force hit mountain with such power he was thrown through the air, ribs cracking with the impact. Mountain hit the door and shattered it off its hinges.

  Melaki stalked over to Eliam, but was glaring out the door.

  The tavern was silent, stunned.

  “Galli, the tooth.”

  “Yes.”

  “Put it in the place it should be.”

  “Yes, master.”

  Eliam groaned, desperate. “I can not move.”

  Melaki nodded, crouching next to him. “Good, then I do not have to tell you to stay still.”

  “I am doomed. No use for a paralyzed soldier.”

  “Shut up already. I need to concentrate.” Laying his hands on Eliam's chest and stomach, he concentrated, delving. Seeing the break and the damage, he patterned the repair. Then he gently repaired the damage to the cord that resulted in the paralysis.

  Eliam hissed.

  “Shush.”

  “Do you want me to gag him, master?”

  “I suppose I could wither his tongue--”

  Eliam looked panicked.

  Melaki next fixed the tooth. He delved once more and nodded. “Get up, then.”

  “But--”

  “Get up.”

  Eliam started to move, wonder on his face. “I can move?”

  “Looks like it, does it not?” Melaki rose.

  Eliam got to his feet, testing his back. “There is no pain.”

  He gave the veteran a wry look. “Do you want me to damage it again so there is some?”

  “No, no. No.” He was waving his hands. Then he snapped a look out the door where mountain was groaning in the street. His hand went to his sword.

  “Eliam,” said Melaki. “No.” He pulled four gold coins and placed them on the counter in front of the wary-looking barkeep. “Will this pay for the door?”

  The barkeep looked at the coins and then back up to Melaki. He swallowed and shook his head.

  He placed a fifth coin on the counter and raised his eyebrows in question.

  The barkeep looked nervous, but nodded.

  Three guards ran in. A fourth was outside helping mountain to his feet.

  A short one, all business, said, “We have reports of a brawl.”

  Melaki said, “We were just leaving.”

  “Brawling is punishable by a week i
n jail--”

  “What?” said Melaki. He started shaking his head. He was not going to spend a week in jail. He raised his hands, fingers poised to form patterns.

  Four of the Callacan soldiers entered, eyeing the town guards. Subcommander Finli followed in and confronted the short man.

  “Is there a problem with these men, captain?”

  The short soldier nodded. “Brawling. Jail time for them.”

  But the subcommander was shaking his head.

  That's when the Oran captain's eyes went large. He was looking at the red stripes on Finli's sleeves.

  Finli said, “We will take these men. We are on an errand for the king. After the errand is complete, we shall hang them. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Hang?” Melaki said. He was getting angrier by the second.

  Finli gave him a look that shut him up.

  The Oran captain blinked. “Hanging is too harsh--”

  Finli interrupted him. “They are under my care and orders. I will mete punishment as I see fit.”

  “Oh... Well...”

  “I am glad we understand each other.” He glanced at the Callacans with him. “Get them out of here and back to camp.”

  Melaki, Adaris, Galli and Eliam went willingly. They knew Finli was saving them from a week of sitting in jail.

  Finli said as they left the tavern, “Shall we avoid any further entanglements that might delay us?”

  Melaki nodded. “My thanks to you, subcommander.”

  Eliam growled at mountain, but the walking heap of muscles appeared dazed.

  Finli shrugged. “I would let you sit in jail but for the king's orders.”

  Melaki considered the days ahead. The Vattonses capital would be a ten day trek from here. Three days until they were out of the Callacan Kingdom.

  Was the information good? Was the border really undefended?

  CHAPTER 12

  Melaki relaxed a little on Tila. They had crossed the border an hour before. Tension had been in them all and even the horses seemed nervous.

  But there had been no vast encampment of an army, nor had there been forces manning the outposts as far as they could see.

  The land was hilly, drier here, but still a lush green. The ground was merely damp from the constant mist that descended at night.