The scrounger he was referring to was the one who had found the blade inside the hut. The man meekly held it out in front of him. For a long minute there was an absolute silence. The other man was clearly confused at what to do next. Miri didn’t need to use her mindsense to detect a fear in the air. Zeren smiled as he walked over to the trembling old man and took the sword from the scavenger’s hands. The old man backed away in fear as Zeren reached into his pocket, took out a gold coin and flipped it to the scrounger. The glittering piece of precious metal fell to the ground beside the man’s feet, which were covered in fur rags. The old mine smiled at him, bent down and took the coin before rejoining the crowd.
Miri frowned. There was no point in keeping her presence a secret so she got up as well and walked over to join Zeren. Everyone’s heads turned in her direction and there was more shock and confusion coming from the group. She kept her spear upright in a non-threatening gesture while sending out a slight mental wave of calmness to everyone around her. The last thing she wanted was a misunderstanding that would lead to the pair of them having to fight their way out.
“Is that weapon really valuable to you?” she asked Zeren.
Zeren held up the sword. Its shiny, saber-like blade had a slight curve on the thicker side that exposed the sharpened lower edge of the weapon. The overall length of Fumal Led’s sword was also slightly longer than Zeren’s broadsword, giving this weapon a longer reach. There was an elaborate wire basket hilt just above the grip to protect the wielder’s hand. It had been many cycles since he had gotten hold of his mentor’s sword, and it brought back an outpouring of memories. Zeren himself had preferred a slightly shorter blade in order to maneuver in the tight confines of Lethe’s back alleys, but now that he was holding Fumal Led’s sword, its universal practicality made sense to him. The weapon was in excellent condition, well-sharpened and slightly oiled, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.
“This was his sword,” he said softly.
Miri understood. She herself wielded Kaelr’s legendary spear. When it came to people like them, these arms held a special significance- not just in practicality, but it honoring the ones who had used that very weapon in the past. She looked over at the small crowd to address them. “We have traveled from the city of Lethe, and we are here to trade amicably with you. Do not be afraid, for we come in peace.”
One of the other scroungers, a scrawny old woman, gave them a gap-toothed smile. She pointed across the seemingly endless barren flatlands. “Beyond is the staging area of the Khanate guard.”
Miri bowed slightly. “Our thanks. We shall go and tell the others.” She tugged at Zeren’s elbow, and they both turned and walked back towards the surrounding dunes.
Chapter 5
The Khanate guard fleet consisted of over two dozen sand sails, each nearly as large as the vessel the expedition from Lethe had arrived in. When Miri and Zeren had returned to their ship, a number of smaller vehicles soon emerged from the surrounding dunes and began to converge upon them.
The crewmen from Lethe were amazed at these two-man versions of the sand sail. Each vehicle had but a single, man-sized mast that protruded from a skeletal base of bronze tubing, with a pivoting forward wheel and two more at the rear. Two men would sit side by side as one would operate the sail by twisting their lines back and forth while the second crewman carried a musket for attack. No sooner did half a dozen of these darting things started to circle their ship when the larger ones revealed themselves as they crested the high dunes to the south.
Orilion ordered the crewmen to stop his ship, and the vessel from Lethe put down their sails as a gesture of peace. The dozen large Khanate vehicles continued forward until they stood less than thirty paces away before folding up their own sails in order to stop. For a short while both sides warily eyed each other, their weapons on full display.
Rion had told Miri and the others the age-old tradition of meeting strangers peacefully. According to the telling stones the leaders were to walk forward and meet while the rest peacefully waited a fair distance away. Since they were the heads of the expedition, Miri, Zeren and Orilion came down from their vessel and strode forward until they were within ten paces of the opposing sand sails, then waited. Three men used ropes to come down from the largest vehicle and started walking towards them.
Miri could see the leader of this contingent was a mountain of a man. His companion was nearly half his height and the third was a lanky, pale-skinned youth. Unlike the massacred tribe they had seen earlier, these people resembled ordinary humans. The first two wore brown and crimson cloaks, and their scale armored shirts were visible underneath while the young man wore a richly embroidered leather tunic and leggings. When the trio got to within ten paces, they stopped, their stone-faced visages concealing any sort of emotion.
The tall man held out his open palm. The accent was similar to the hairy ones they encountered in the destroyed village. “Hail and greetings. I am Lord Vorconis, executor of the Khanate, tribe of all tribes. This is my subordinate, Bugurt.” He pointed to the armored man beside him before gesturing to the youth. “And this is Lorrt, son of the great Khan.”
Lorrt had been drinking heavily all day, and all he could do was to nod absentmindedly whenever his name was mentioned. He stood right beside Bugurt and leaned on his side, using the sober man as support in order to stay upright.
Orilion made a curt bow. “Hail and greetings. I am Orilion, second husband of House Ixtal from the great city of Lethe, leader and chief financier of this expedition.” He gestured at the pair standing beside him. “This is Miri and Zeren, our two protectors.”
Vorconis’s eyebrows furrowed. He turned and began to whisper to the smaller man. After a few minutes of hushed conversations, he looked back at the three of them once more. “Lethe? I have heard of that city, but only in legends. My belief is we are the last humans of this world.”
Orilion smiled. “That is also the belief shared by many people in my city. For untold eons we had thought anyone outside of our city walls had no longer existed. But recent events have made us reconsider this long held belief, and this is why we have made this journey, the first of many, we hope.”
Vorconis nodded. “Your arrival is … unprecedented. You have come upon a rather … delicate time for the Khanate. Word has come your scouts came upon a tribe that was recently … cleansed due to their rebellion. This is normally a peaceful land, but violators of the old pacts must be punished.”
“It seems you have annihilated an entire tribe- including the younglings,” Zeren said. “May I ask what it was they did which could incur such a terrible punishment?”
Miri bit her lip and said nothing. She wanted to publicly admonish Zeren for being so tactless, but they needed to show a united front. Zeren was headstrong and prone to his whims, not well suited for the kind of delicate negotiations needed at a time like this.
Vorconis scowled. This was but the first time they met, and they were already demanding answers. Nevertheless, he felt it might be better to tell them the truth, so there would be no misunderstandings. “The tribe that shall not be named attempted to assassinate the herald of our living god. The old pacts have said such a terrible act must be answered by swift and merciless retribution. I shall speak no more of it other than to say we who live in this land value our traditions and laws greatly, and we shall exact implacable justice upon any who violate them.”
Orilion bowed his head. “On behalf of my companions, I must humbly apologize. We Letheans have a propensity to say things we later come to regret. We are strangers in your land, and have yet to learn your laws and etiquette.” He pulled out a small leather pouch from the folds of his tunic and held it out in front of him. “A small gift for you, Lord Vorconis.”
Bugurt walked forward and took the pouch from his hand. The sub-commander returned and gave the pouch to Vorconis, who promptly opened it, revealing a handful of finely cut colored gemstones. Assorted diamonds, emeralds and sapphires glinted in his han
d.
Vorconis smiled as he placed the gems back into the pouch and stowed it away. “So you have come to trade? Do you have other goods besides gems?”
Orilion knew the barrier between them had at last been broken. He grinned and gestured at the sand sail behind him. “We have the most wondrous of things from our noble city. Our ship brought these across the Dead Lands to serve as both gifts and wares for the Khanate, so we may reopen the old trading routes once more.”
Vorconis arched his eyebrows. He had been praying to the Maker, hoping the living god would somehow reward his devotion with a sign. He needed allies, and the arrival of these outlanders seemed fortuitous enough. “Then we must celebrate your arrival. It is customary for our people to hold a feast once strangers arrive.” He turned around to address his men. “They are traders from Lethe. Break out the wine and the rest of the provisions. We dine well this eventide!”
Lorrt smiled and nodded. A feast meant more wine for him.
As eventide set in, the leaders of the expedition were ushered to feast by the campfire alongside the flagship of the Khanate. A smoldering flame made from dried dung gave a pungent aroma as the guests were made to sit on leather and fur cushions that had been brought forth from the vessel’s hold. Alongside Orilion, Miri, and Zeren was Rion, who had quickly run over to Miri’s side the moment the declaration for the feast was announced. Todrul stayed with the crewmen by the side of their own sand sail, where they had their warming fire as dusk fell. The travelers were surprised to find the people of the valley had bred a smaller version of the canis they kept in cages, and was used exclusively for meat and fur. Seated beside them were Vorconis and Lorrt- the former regaled them with tales of his exploits, while the latter was barely awake, a half-empty bladder of wine in his hand. Bugurt stayed dutifully on the deck of the flagship with some of his men.
Vorconis passed the wineskin to Zeren who promptly took a long swig before passing it to Miri who declined. Rion sat silently beside her while holding a cup of water in his hand. A small group of musicians played a subdued tune with bone flutes and leather drums while plates of roasted meat were distributed back and forth.
Miri glanced over at Rion. The boy seemed strangely subdued ever since they had entered the Sea of Dunes. “Is something the matter?”
Rion looked at her with uneasy eyes. “I am sorry for being so sullen, but a strange feeling came over me when we ventured upon this land.”
Miri extended her mindsense so she could probe the boy but was somewhat surprised to find his thought defenses were at full strength. “Your mental protection is flowing. Has someone attacked you?”
“I was not attacked, but I felt the beginnings of some presence scrutinizing my mind,” Rion said softly. “I immediately raised my defenses and have been keeping them up ever since.”
Miri placed a comforting hand on his thin forearm. “Worry not. I too have felt it, only it was far more intense, and it took all of my Vis to keep it at bay. I do not know what it is, but we shall combine our mental states to create an impenetrable defense for us both.”
Rion smiled faintly. Miri always had a way of putting him back at ease. “My thanks, Miri.”
Vorconis pointed to the boy. “Miri, is he your son?”
“You may say that,” Miri said. “Rion and I have traveled across many lands together.”
Rion took Miri’s hand and held it tightly so Vorconis would notice. “Yes, she is my mother, and I am very proud to be her son.”
Vorconis nodded. “I have seen the way your crew look at you, boy, and they seem to bow slightly in reverence every time you pass them by. You must be of the noble class, or a god of some sort.”
“He is neither,” Miri said. “The people in this expedition respect Rion because the stories in his collection of telling stones have both built the sand sail we ride in, and has guided us safely across the Dead Lands and into these dune covered deserts.”
Vorconis seemed impressed. “Ah, so your son is a teller then? That is good. The one thing this land needs is better tellers, for the ones we have here can no longer read any of the glyph stones.”
Rion’s curiosity was piqued, and he began to forget about his recent worries. “So there is no one in this land that knows how to read glyphs?”
Lorrt had awoken and was listening in on the conversation. An answer popped up in his mind and he decided to speak, in order to impress these strangers. “Only the Exalted know how to read,” he said after burping loudly. “And they have no desire to teach anyone else.”
Orilion scratched his chin. He had been observing his hosts and the kinds of riches they had. He was already formulating a plan for another expedition the moment they returned to Lethe. Now it was important he understood the differing factions of this land, for it was necessary to know who where the most powerful ones. “Who are these Exalted you speak of?”
Lorrt chuckled. “The true rulers of the Sea of Dunes.”
Vorconis scowled at the young man. “My lord, I think it is time for you to rest.” He gestured at the two guards standing by the ship, who instantly walked over to them.
“But the eventide is still young, uncle,” Lorrt said as the two men stood over him and pulled him up. “The moon is barely over the horizon.”
Vorconis tilted his chin towards his vessel while his eyes were focused on the two guards. “Take him back to his chamber in the ship. He needs to rest now.”
As the guards escorted Lorrt away from the campfire, Vorconis refocused his attention back to his guests. “My apologies, the young lord sometimes utters nonsense when he has had too much to drink.”
Orilion smiled. So it seemed even though Lorrt was the son of the Khan, his uncle had more influence. “There is no need to be sorry, it happens to the best of us.”
Zeren stood up and bowed. He never liked hanging out with the noble class, and the luxurious cushions made it all even worse. He needed to get away from the parked sand sails and get some fresh air. “It does indeed. I must also take my leave, for I have had too much of your delicious wine as well.”
“A pleasant eventides to you, sirrah,” Vorconis said as Zeren bowed, turned around and left the open campfire. He then turned to look at Miri. “So you are a protector. Although we have an occasional woman who bears arms in the valley, most of our females here prefer to help in the fungi and algae farms. The only female protectors I know of from old legends would be Strigas. Do you have this gift of Vis?”
Miri smiled. She wasn’t sure what the laws of this land were when it came to Strigas, so it was best she told only part of the truth, for now. “I did, once. But it was taken away from me the moment I ventured into the city of Lethe. Now all I have are my skills.”
Vorconis nodded. He had some training in resisting mental attacks, courtesy of the Exalted, but he felt no mindprobes worming into his thoughts for the moment, so it was possible this woman was telling the truth. Nevertheless, only the servants of the Maker would be able to tell for sure if she truly was a Striga or not. He pointed at the spear lying beside her. “I have never seen a weapon like that before? What kind of metal is on your shaft?”
Miri patted the length of the spear. “I do not know. I found this weapon in the wastes many cycles ago. It has been with me ever since.”
My lord Vorconis,” Orilion said, changing the subject. “Should I begin negotiations with you in regards to the goods we would like to offer for trade?”
Vorconis leaned back on the cushion. “Our traditions state I must bring you before the Khan, and he will decide what kind of offering to take. Sadly our Khan has been … ill for some time. His wife the Khatun may speak for him, but I can tell you there can be two negotiations.”
Orilion leaned forward. This man was trying to say something, but the wine was making his mind swim. “What do you mean, my lord?”
Vorconis looked at him squarely in the eye and winked. “What I mean is, you may not have to show the Khan’s court everything all at once. Different tribes ha
ve different needs, and once the official trading has been done, the others may have their pick of anything left in your trappings.”
Orilion understood. “I see. Would it be possible to speak to these other tribes privately once we have spoken to the Khan?”
Vorconis nodded. “Of course, let me be your guide.”
Zeren breathed in deeply before taking another swig of the wineskin in his hand. He stood at the outer perimeter of the camp, well away from the others and stared out into the craggy horizon. He was pretty much resigned to the fact his relationship with Miri was over. Now they were just nothing more than allies. A part of him longed to return to Lethe, to partake of the brothels and the taverns there, but he realized he would be forced to undergo the ritual of emasculation if he stayed, and he would rather die than be subjected to that. The Magi Order had been left in shambles after he killed his own brother, and it wouldn’t have surprised him if the order had sent assassins to hunt him down. Zeren had a wandering soul, but his longing to be with someone who he could finally call a true love had yet to be fulfilled. One day blurred into another, and now he had reached a crisis in his life, for he had no purpose.
After taking another sip, he wiped away the dribbles of fermented algae juice from his chin. Zeren was the kind of man who got bored easily, and he decided to accompany Miri and Rion almost on a whim. Now that they were all safely in the Sea of Dunes, he realized just how empty his life was. His meandering thoughts brought him back to the memory of Ylira, his former partner in crime. He had found her in the streets not long after Fumal Led had gone, and her death was more painful to him than anything he had ever experienced. He had known her since he was but a youth, and now he missed her terribly. It was Ylira who tried unsuccessfully to convince him to leave before the tragedy occurred in which she saved his life at the cost of her own. Zeren tried to imagine what would have happened if only he had listened to her advice instead. Could they both have been truly happy living out in the wastes all by themselves? He gritted his teeth at the unfairness of it all. The truth was he did love her, and it was this emptiness that made him reckless with abandon.
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