The Melaki Chronicle Volume II

by William Thrash

  Rishtu ranged ahead of them, floating, occasionally flapping and generally doing nothing.

  “I think the information was correct. I do not believe there are any troops here to stop us.”

  Adaris scowled. “Of course the information is correct. My sources can not be wrong.”

  “I did not mean to imply insult,” Melaki said.

  The spy grumbled but said nothing intelligible.

  He glanced back. Eliam and Finli were getting on well. There had been a tense day when Eliam had blustered about the broken promise. Words had flown and vulgar names regarding the king. At the end of the day, they were drinking together and Melaki had heard Finli claim Eliam had been cheated.

  Rishtu cawed once.

  He looked ahead seeing little. Nothing moved that he could see, but cawing was his way of alerting them to someone nearby.

  Melaki was beginning to think the bird was hungry or something when the raven banked and cawed a few times. It flapped it's wings, trying to remain stationary in the air. Then it glided in little circles, rising higher.

  Melaki signaled a stop.

  Finli rode up. “What is it?”

  “I think an ambush, but only a few men.”

  “Bandits.” The subcommander looked disgusted.

  “Shall we eliminate them?” Melaki did not mean it as a question.

  Finli turned and signaled for the troop of archers. When the archer captain arrived he gave fast instructions on a flanking move. Then he turned to the wizard. “Have flame?”

  “I can.”

  “Join me.” He moved a little ahead and waited. His archers had sunk into the scrub and were moving left and right. They were good – Melaki only caught occasional glimpses.

  Finli nodded. “It is time.” He spurred forward, making noise.

  Melaki was beside him. A hilly scrub rose to their right and he thought he saw a head pop up and grin.

  A whistle and a man rose from a bush just off the road.

  He was gruff-looking, brutish about the eyes, and scowling. “Road toll,” he said.

  Finli leaned forward and spurred. “Yes, I have your toll right here. Melaki, fire on the ridge, now.”

  He patterned a fireball and blew it into the scrub concealing the ambushers.

  Yells of shock sent five men scattering from their hiding place.

  Callacan archers rose from theirs and arrows were flying.

  Finli had drawn his sword and deftly rode the brutish man down, hacking several gashes into the man's neck and shoulders. He dismounted and ran his sword deep into the man's back. Then he wiped his blade.

  There was nothing for Melaki to do. The other five men were laying on the hillside, at least two arrows in each.

  “My thanks to you, wizard,” said Finli. “I hate bandits.”

  “I do not believe you even needed me.”

  “Your fire flushed the ones in hiding. That was a big help. Made them expose themselves.”

  They did not bother to loot the corpses. Bandits were never wealthy.

  An hour later that Rishtu began cawing in surprise and flapping madly off to their left.

  Melaki signaled a move in that direction. He had directed Rishtu to lead them away from contact.

  The bird sounded very agitated. One caw was something small. Several meant several people. It sounded like the bird was strangling in anger up there.

  He signaled with more energy and the mass of wagons and soldiers began moving to the left, quietly as they were able, and with purpose.

  They had been spotted.

  Perhaps Rishtu was angry that he was surprised.

  Several men armed with bows rose from the scrub along the ridgeline ahead of them. There were not many, but this had been the kind of contact they had wanted to avoid. The men wore armor.

  Melaki sighed and signaled a stop.

  There was a curious tension, though the men held their bows low.

  He waited, not sure what to do while Finli rode up. Tila pranced about sideways, feeling his frustration. “Why do they not attack? They have us in range.”

  The subcommander looked back and signaled. Then he paused. “Look there, back at that range of hills.”

  Melaki turned. Dozens of horses were coming, barely seen. “Another ambush?”

  “I do not think so.”

  Eliam joined them. “Nah. Tolos and his men, I wager.”

  A single figure moved forward from the men in front of them. “Hail and what are you about?”

  “Not seeking battle,” Melaki called.

  The man came closer. He was not dressed as a soldier. “The Callacans are invading?”

  Melaki was surprised to see the man step up to his horse without apparent fear. There was a hard look about his eyes. A guard, not a soldier. Melaki relaxed, a little. “We do not invade. Why are you out here?”

  “Hunting a group of bandits plaguing us.”

  “Six men?” said Finli?

  The guard stood straighter. “Yes.” He was still looking at them doubtfully.

  “Dead, an hour back.”

  The guard looked at Finli and nodded slowly. “Then the township of Serono offers you many thanks.”

  Finli gave the man a salute. “I have always hated bandits.”

  The guard placed hands on hips, one near his sword. “You say Callacans do not invade, but here we have Callacans with swords on Vattonses soil. What is this?”

  Eliam said from behind Melaki, “Does this look like an army of invasion?”

  “More yet come.” The guard pointed.

  Melaki dismounted, wanting to stretch his legs and not be looking down at the man. “We come to remove the demon Lagash.”

  Finli growled at the admission, wanting Melaki to remain silent about their mission.

  The guard suddenly spat and the Callacans nearby tensed. “That vile filth. All of the armies of Hell could ride through us to remove that pustule from the throne and we would cheer their trampling.”

  Finli blinked. “Is it so bad?”

  “He demands our men, our farmers, our slaves. Barely any men remain. Women handle tasks formerly accomplished by skilled men. We are awaiting the day he calls our women.”

  Melaki said, “then you would not impede us--”

  “I see Callacans. I would not impede Callacans. But you are Euskaldani. I would have my men shoot you down where you stand.” The threat was very evident. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the guards of Serono looked ready to die trying to kill the wizard.

  Melaki held up his hands. “Please, understand. I am not Altanlean. I am of the Meseditt Empire, taken and trained in the Altanlean Ruhka. I am not here on their behalf.”

  Eliam snorted. “More like he's on the run from all the Atlantean assassins chasing after him.

  The guard was peering intently into his eyes and remained that way for a moment. Then he relaxed. “I see no deceit in you and your features match your words.” He waved behind him and all the men walked forward to join them. They slung their bows.

  But the guard leader still looked suspicious. “Do you come to plunder? We will not--”

  “No plunder,” Finli said. “My orders are to deliver these men to the palace and then return to Callacan.”

  “How do I know I can trust the word of a Callacan?”

  Several of the guards muttered in agreement.

  Eliam pushed his horse forward. “And how do we know we can trust the word of a Vattonses?”

  Melaki slapped his hand to his forehead. This is getting bad.

  But the guards chuckled and so did Eliam and Finli.

  “You truly go to slay the demon?”

  Melaki frowned. “I said it.”

  “Then you shall need help; more than what you have, and we shall provide it.”

  Finli blinked in surprise. “You would ride against your own king?”

  Melaki got the idea Finli disliked any affront to one's own king. He wondered what the guard captain would have thought of serving un
der Tarep and his thirst for necromancy.

  The guards tensed at Finli's words, bristling, hands on weapons and looks of murder on their faces. The leader turned red with anger. “He is not our king!” He spat on the ground, violently.

  Finli slowly raised his hands. “I would not argue with you.”

  “Then see you do not until such a time as you have lived but one day under the rule of a demon.”

  Melaki said between them, “We ride. Others come behind us, but not many. Gather what you would and you will be welcome to assist us in restoring your country.”

  The guards all stood straighter. Determination, fierce and foolish, detailed their desire on their faces.

  * * *

  Adaris looked at Eliam. “I am amazed so many women--”

  Eliam growled. “It should not be.”

  Tolos rode beside Adaris. “Their anger must be great.”

  Along to their sides, men and women marched with them, haphazard, in small groups moving together. Horses pulled carts stocked with food and drink. Pitchforks in amazing numbers waved in the air. Almost all that walked with them were women - very few were men.

  Hundreds had joined them in that first day.

  That first night with the Vattonses commoners joining them, a woman had pleaded with Adaris and Melaki, asking if she would be rejoined with her husband, wondering if he was still alive. Ready to kill with her pitchfork the demon himself for her anguish.

  But what did Adaris know of the capital? What did Galvir hold? His sources did not extend so far. Would there be an army there, defending, slaughtering the attempt to even get inside the gates? Would the populace there also welcome the Callacan force? Or did the demon have demonic minions standing sentry against just such an operation?

  Did the demon know they were coming? Would he swoop down and bathe them in the flames of Hell?

  Adaris hated the unknown; he felt very out of his element. “I believe, Tolos, that for any to turn against their king, their anger and grievance must be profound.”

  “Women should not fight,” said Eliam. “They should be home, caring for the young and vulnerable.”

  Tolos nodded.

  Adaris said, “You do not think a woman should seek--”

  Eliam cut him off. “I do not question their motives. Men fight wars; it is ugly. Women have a unique sense of care and nurturing with the young. It should be up to men to shield them while they perform those duties.”

  Adaris went silent. He understood the soldier. He understood society. But he had not seen war up close; only read about it in reports and histories. He began to wonder about the motivations behind what people did.

  It was one thing to read a report that hundreds of women had taken up arms against their king; it was another to see it so emotionally first hand.

  * * *

  Melaki sat in his tent provided him by the Callacan forces. He inked a few thoughts on parchment scraps, wrestling around the edges of magic and how it was produced.

  He knew he brought it from within. He knew most men thought that evil, because the giants had taught it. He knew other magic was worked by harnessing spirits from the spirit realm – evil ones. He knew that men thought such was not evil, because the giants had not taught it.

  He had taught himself his own form of magic, feeling his way along lines of thought as they occurred to him. Had the giants taught patterns? Melaki formed his magic by imagining patterns of force in his mind, sometimes aided by using his fingers tracing those imaginary patterns in the air. He also had found that magic could be bound to a pattern etched into the ground, though it did not last for very long, even if the pattern remained.

  Was it magic to use spirit magic? Or, was it magic to bend a spirit to one's will?

  The elets of the Ruhka had pulled him from the executioner because they had detected the spark in him – the ability to use magic. Or harness spirits.

  He turned the scrap over and scratched his thoughts on spirit-magic using real magical control. If it was true, as he suspected, then all wizards using spirit magic could use giant magic – or inherent powers pulled from within.

  He sighed and tucked the scrap into his spell satchel.

  What of inversion? He had used inversion to hide his magic against Mokura in Dramlos. Was it really an inversion of something? Or was it just another way his mind interpreted the use of his abilities?

  He took another heavy breath and then abruptly stuffed all his notes back into the spell satchel.

  Not knowing and not having someone to teach him agitated him. What if he limited himself in one area because he was unable to fathom a different way of using magic?

  His only option of real learning lay with finding the remaining giants, of which there were many settlements rumored far to the east, and discovering exactly what they had to offer. Was such a thought feasible in deed? Some giants had been rumored to have crossed the Altanlean Ocean, even beyond the isle of the Altanlean Empire. Other lands were there, wild and untamed.

  He crawled out of the small tent.

  “Is that you rustling about, Melaki?” said a guard.

  “It is. Where is Adaris?”

  “Here.” From his tent.

  “You still awake?” It was late, but only an hour beyond dinner.

  “I am now.” The spy untied his tent flap.

  Melaki squatted down – there was not room for two to a tent. “What do you know of giants?”

  “Giants?”

  “Yes, giants. The big--”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Melaki had yet to see Adaris stumped – as he apparently was now.

  “Well, not very much since we drove the giants away so long ago. Some went over the ocean and some went back into the lands of the Jubalites. Those down on the dark continent were hunted to extinction by the dark men there.”

  “They did not like the giants?”

  “I do not know. Fear perhaps. Their bones became great trophies. Much as like the dragons.”

  “That sounds more like pride than fear.” Melaki scratched the stubble on his chin.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “If I wanted to search a settlement out for them where would--”

  “Dangerous words, friend.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You do not fit in anywhere, do you?” Adaris appeared curious.

  “I believe I do not. Maybe the giants would be welcoming.”

  “I can not say I understand you wizards.”

  “I am unlike others.”

  “Apparently, but what makes you say so?”

  Melaki stood. “As you said, dangerous words.”

  He felt the spy's eyes on him as he walked out into the night.

  CHAPTER 13

  Lagash reveled in the helpless screams of those held down, watching as the ritual knife descended to their throats. The screams ended in gurgles.

  Blood flowed, filling a shallow pool at the foot of the altar. The construction had been fast, and well-done. He sat, perched upon his throne, watching. When the pool was filled, he would bathe in it. Doing so would give him power, much power, to go forth in the spirit and fight against Goroth and the Atlantean Euskaldani.

  Already, his forces were engaged. Already the blood had started to flow on the border. Instead of defending, this time his troops were pushing forward.

  “How long?” His voice was a rasp of irritation.

  “A couple of hours, master,” said his head counselor. His voice shook and his face aimed at the ground. His fingers twitched in agitation and fear.

  He knew his control here was complete. Those around him were firmly under his will. He would turn his attention towards the Euskaldani, and begin his fight this afternoon. Goroth expected him in the flesh. He would be there in the spirit with power. The fat one would be destroyed.

  * * *

  Melaki stood at the campfire, drinking some coffee. It wasn't bad. In fact, it was better than he thought Callacan troop-coffee would be.
>
  Eliam seemed pleased to be drinking it once again.

  “Do you wonder if you should have stayed in?” he said to the veteran.

  Eliam gave him a haunted look. “What, you mean stay in until I die?”

  “It was your life.” He felt something nagging at his shoulder blades.

  The old soldier stood straight. “Regretting taking me on?”

  “No, no, not at all. I count it a blessing from the gods... No, not the gods.”

  “No?” Eliam's eyebrows raised in suspicion and accusation.

  “No,” he made a calming motion with his free hand. “No, no. I did not mean that. Not that way.”

  “Oh?”

  “Please, allow me to rephrase, I believe you are a blessing from the Only God.”

  Eliam squinted. “What nonsense is this?”

  Melaki sighed. “I do not know. I have visions. Because of them I do not believe there are any more gods than one alone.” He shifted his shoulders, that itch increasing.

  “One?” Eliam looked doubtful. He grunted and took a drink. “You might as well scratch that itch. She's been looking at you for at least five minutes now.”

  He frowned at Eliam but then realized what he meant. He turned. A woman stood there, at the edge of the firelight, light playing across smooth features and iron gray hair. Her eyes were alight with a fire and curiosity of her own.

  “Who?” he said.

  Eliam grunted. “I do not know. One of the Vattonses.”

  He turned fully and stood straight. The woman's gaze burned into him. He said, “Who are you?”

  The woman seemed startled, her eyes widening. But she took a step forward. “I felt you.”

  “You...?” He was confused.

  She took another step forward. She was slight of frame, her eyes bright, her gray hair wild even if brushed. “I felt you. Across the camp.”

  “Felt me?” he said.

  Eliam chuckled. “I think this conversation does not include me.”

  Melaki looked back at the soldier. He had a twinkle in his eye. “Wait...”

  The veteran raised his cup and moved off towards his tent.

  He turned back to the woman. She had taken another step towards him. Inexorable. Unavoidable. Her eyes saw.