The Maker of Entropy

by John Triptych

  Vlaex brought up his blade in a low guard position, his one functioning hand still able to wield the blade but it was apparent he had less dexterity with it. “Curse you, Magus.”

  Zeren shrugged as he edged closer, his basket-hilted sword pointing straight at his enemy’s chest. “You could not even defeat me with both poison and sheer numbers. Perhaps it is time your tribe brings forth a new leader, for you do not deserve such a lofty status.”

  Cursing out loud, Vlaex tried a thrusting attack with the longsword, but his one-handed strike was slow and awkward. Zeren quickly got to an inside angle and made a counter thrust at his enemy’s exposed sword arm, slicing through flesh just before the elbow. Vlaex screamed once more as he finally dropped the weapon, and the longsword clattered on the solid ground. Zeren continued his maneuver, stepping past his opponent as he brought his sword down for another strike, this time cutting into the back of Vlaex’s right thigh.

  Vlaex was now on one knee with both arms dangling by his side, unable to pick up a weapon. He turned his head just as Zeren swung down and the blade connected with the back of his skull. Vlaex’s eyes rolled up and he fell into a heap.

  Zeren continued to breathe heavily as he sheathed his sword and examined the wound on his leg. The wide cut above his knee continued to bleed, nearly soaking his trousers and boot, yet he did not feel any pain. How was this possible? Tearing off a narrow strip of leather from his cloak, Zeren wrapped the makeshift bandage around his leg to stop the bleeding.

  Sensing another presence nearby, he quickly moved down the length of the alleyway until he got out into the clear, close to Syviss’s home. Something small and delicate stood out on the flat rock, watching him with an eerie silence. As Zeren got closer, he let out a surprised gasp.

  Thalena wore nothing but a light sleeping tunic. The little girl stared at him with blood streaming down her eyes. She let out a shrill cry before her body began trembling uncontrollably. Zeren ran up and caught her in his arms just as she fainted. The moment she lost consciousness, he once again felt the cascading weakness that had been afflicting his mind when the confrontation with Vlaex and his gang had begun. Only this time it was compounded by the additional agonies of his wounded leg and loss of blood.

  Zeren grimaced as his knees finally buckled. Using one hand, he was able to stop his fall while continuing to hold onto Thalena, preventing her from falling to the ground and hitting her head on the barren rock. The blurriness in his eyes had also returned, and he could barely keep them open. The child had apparently used her mindsense to transfer the effects of the poison away from his mind, thereby projecting it to her own body as a form of mental transference. He had never known a Striga could do such a thing.

  He heard Syviss’s frantic cries just as she ran out of the hut and began heading towards them. “Thalena!”

  With the venom still in his body, Zeren could no longer endure the pain and turmoil in his mind. His entire body was shutting down and he couldn’t stop it. He closed his eyes and keeled over just as Thalena’s mother ran up to him.

  Chapter 17

  After barely keeping his temper in check, Wulfgen strode into the Khan’s inner chambers, surprising the two attendants who were combing Nuada’s long dark hair. He pointed at the entryway he had just emerged from, his eyes radiating a barely contained anger. His voice was terse and to the point. “Leave us.”

  The two chambermaids looked nervously at the Khatun, who nodded her assent. Taking the bone comb and tray with jars containing skin pigments, the two youthful women quickly left the chamber, closing the bronze door behind them. Now only two of them remained in the anteroom.

  Wulfgen made a roundabout way until he stood beside her. “Has he spoken yet?”

  Nuada’s delicate chin trembled as she looked down and shook her head. “I tried to reason with him, but he merely smiled at me and went to bed.”

  Wulfgen grimaced as he pounded on the stone table with his fist. “By the gods! If he had given the word, my men would be attacking Vorconis’s holds by now!”

  Nuada placed a calming hand on her lover’s broad shoulder. “W-we must be patient. Give me until the morrow. I am sure he will finally give the word and order his brother’s annihilation.”

  Wulfgen cursed as he shoved her away. “We must act now! My son cannot be held prisoner by those grubworms any longer!”

  Nuada staggered as she nearly fell, but she was able to hold onto the side of the stone table and right herself. “Wulfgen, please … do not let your anger command you.”

  The words were meant to soothe his troubles, but it proved little comfort. For several days since the massacre at the feast Wulfgen could not sleep, and every waking hour he would spend with his war council, barking out commands to make sure his fleet of sand sails was ready. While the other tribes in the Khanate were reluctant to offer their support, he knew the moment the Khan labeled his brother as a disloyal rebel, they would all be compelled to take up arms against Vorconis and his allies, thereby sealing the traitor’s fate.

  But Khan Dural was in a state of apparent denial. When he had surveyed the corpses lying about in the Great Cavern after his return he merely smiled, telling everyone it was but a bad dream, and all would be well at the morrow. After all traces of the carnage had been taken away he promptly declared the incident had never occurred, and Wulfgen’s son and his own daughter had merely gone away but would be back soon, for their baby daughter was still there, waiting for them.

  Wulfgen used his large hands to hold her by the elbows. “I … I am sorry I lashed out at you. My mind is distraught over the fate of my son.”

  Nuada smiled as she stroked his beard. “You must rest. It has been days since you last closed your eyes. You cannot keep this up.”

  Wulfgen let out an exasperated sigh. “If only the Khan would give his word. I cannot bear the thought of my son and his wife being held captive with those treacherous beasts. Has Dural’s madness finally overtaken him?”

  Nuada looked away while placing her hands on her hips. “I … cannot be certain. Perhaps it is because we labeled Lorrt a traitor as well. I think he still feels for him.”

  Wulfgen hissed. “Lorrt must die! All of the witnesses during the feast proclaimed him as the leader of the marauders who slew my men. I knew Vorconis had his ear, but now he has proven it beyond a doubt.”

  Nuada looked at him with longing eyes. “He is my son as well. Can we not spare his life?”

  Wulfgen clenched his teeth. “I would sooner hump a hairless canis! If Lorrt lives on then he may still have a claim to become Khan. No, he must die.”

  She blinked several times to hold back her tears. Even though she could not forgive her son for having done the deed, she still had a mother’s affection for him. “I … do not think I could witness Lorrt’s death.”

  Wulfgen got close to Nuada once more and hugged her tightly. “Perhaps it is best we spare Lorrt’s life for the meantime. But there must be a council that decides his fate once we have taken him prisoner.”

  Nuada sighed with relief. “I believe this would be a better pledge if we take it to Dural. When I mentioned Lorrt as the instigator, I could see the anguish on his face. Perhaps if we tell him we will spare Lorrt’s life, he might be more amenable to declaring war against Vorconis and his allies.”

  “Very well, let us see if he is awake,” Wulfgen said as they both walked towards the inner doorway. He had already decided Lorrt would die no matter what, but he would have his own men murder the treacherous youth once they had him in their grasp. He felt Nuada would hate him for some time once the deed was done, but he needed to make sure there would be no rival claimants to the Khanate once his son Tozhem was elevated as its leader.

  The Khan’s bedchamber was more lavish than the other rooms within the inner sanctum. The ceiling was nearly as high as the Great Cavern, with leather tapestries hung over the bare rock walls. Full suits of rusted armor were displayed along one side of the hall, testament to the power of the r
uling Khanate. The large bed was a mountain of heaped furs from long dead beasts that no longer prowled the land.

  Wulfgen closed the inner bronze door behind him as Nuada stepped into the middle of the chamber, silently tiptoeing to see if her husband was still asleep. After failing to find him on the bed, Nuada had a perplexed look on her face as she began to look around the rest of the room.

  Wulfgen walked up to her. “What is it?”

  Nuada shrugged. “He is not in bed. I had sworn he never left this chamber, so I am at a loss to know where he is.”

  Wulfgen narrowed his eyes. The Khan had to be in this chamber, for there was only one way out. He started to search the room. “He must be here.”

  They were both startled when a slight guffawing came from one of the armor displays by the wall. Dural slipped out from behind a suit of rusting plate mail and snickered. “Ah, it seems I fooled both my beloved wife and my loyal ally.”

  Nuada held her feelings in check as she walked up to him with a pleasant, disarming smile on her face. Placing her arms around his scrawny shoulders, she gave him a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. “Are you certain this is the time for one of your puns, husband?”

  Dural continued his soft laughter while raising his hands in a gesture of resignation. “I am feeling much better these days. It seems my mind has been cleared of all the sand and dust that had been accruing over the long cycles of my life.”

  Wulfgen furrowed his bushy eyebrows. Did the Khan finally succumb to his delusions? He made a slight bow to Dural. “My Khan, I have come here to discuss an urgent matter with you.”

  Dural walked over to a low table and picked up a cup. “Yes, yes. Shall we discuss the agenda for the next feast at eventide?”

  Wulfgen shook his head slightly while walking up to his liege. “My Khan, we must have your decision in regards to your treacherous brother Vorconis. He has taken your daughter and my son as hostages. You must assemble your court and declare a pact of annihilation against him. All the traitors must feel the wrath of the one true Khanate.”

  Dural gave him a blank look and shook his head, placing the cup back onto the table. “My brother would never do such a thing.”

  Wulfgen was exasperated but tried his best to hide it. “But my Khan, Vorconis refuses to do your bidding. He has ignored your summons, and he has masterminded a plot against you. Your own daughter Karan is being held prisoner in Vorconis’s hold, you must gather all your forces while they are still loyal to you.”

  “Let us give Vorconis a bit more time,” Dural said softly. “I am sure he has his reasons for not wanting to see me.”

  “But my Khan, Vorconis and his allies have slaughtered your bodyguards. Your own son Lorrt has taken up arms against you,” Wulfgen pleaded.

  Dural waved a hand in the air. “It must all be a matter of confusion. I am sure we can negotiate a proper accord between them. After all, they are my family.”

  Nuada placed a consoling hand on the Khan’s elbow. Perhaps a different tact was needed to convince him. “My beloved husband, I have always admired your sense of justice- for you know what is right and wrong. What has happened is a threat to you, and action must be done now, lest you lose your authority.”

  “Listen to the Khatun,” Wulfgen said softly. “And hear my reasoning. If the Khatun and I are in agreement, then you must call for a war council quickly. The longer we tarry, the more tribes go over to the enemy! Let us gather our loyal allies now and end this treachery. I promise you no harm will come to Lorrt. My men have instructions to take him alive.”

  Dural looked away. His voice remained soft spoken. “No.”

  Wulfgen gritted his teeth. “What?”

  Nuada scowled while edging closer to her husband. “What do you mean, my love? Do you wish to allow these rebels to gain in strength? All will be lost if that happens.”

  Dural walked over to one of the ancient tapestries by the wall. It showed a symbol of the sun shining its rays down onto the mountains. He ran his hand along the leathery surface, feeling the bumps and ridges that were stitched into the fabric. “I had a vision in my dreams. It was a tale told to me when I was but a youngling. After I had woken up from my last slumber it seemed I remembered what it meant.”

  Wulfgen walked up to him. “My Khan, this is not the time to hear a tale of childhood.”

  Dural waved a finger at him. “Ah but it is, my dear Wulfgen. It told of an old archon, a ruler of a vast territory. One day a traveler from a land beyond the horizon came upon to visit, and presented him with wondrous gifts to sparkle the eye. He told the archon he could make any man’s desire come true.”

  Wulfgen wanted to walk away and leave the room, but Nuada moved over to his side and placed a restraining hand on his elbow.

  “Now this archon knew he was dying, and all he wished for was to be young again- so he could continue to rule his kingdom,” Dural said. “And the traveler walked closer to him and held out a wondrous gemstone he claimed would enable the archon’s wish to come about.”

  Nuada listened intently, trying to recall if she had heard of this legend, but failed to remember it at all. Wulfgen turned away, only half-listening, waiting for his leader to get to the crux of the matter.

  Dural smiled wistfully as he continued to recall the myth. “The archon looked on with feeble eyes upon the gem, and he could see that by staring through the glittering crystal, he could see a different world. He shrieked in horror when all he could see around him using the gem was but dust and decay. The hall he had presided over was desolate, with only skeletal corpses keeping him company. His entire stronghold seemed to be nothing more than a silent ruin. He became angry, demanding the traveler take his accursed gem back, for he did not wish to continue seeing such a horrid sight.”

  Nuada gave him a confused look. “And then what happened?”

  Dural gave her a wink. “The traveler smiled at the old archon and he said the gem contained but one thing: truth. You see this archon had passed away many, many cycles before along with all his subjects, but his delusion somehow made him believe he remained a ruler of a thriving land- when in reality he was already dead.”

  Wulfgen crossed his arms. He had the urge to snort in contempt by what he just heard, but he was able to control himself once more. “I do not understand, my Khan. What does an old tale have to do with our present hardship?”

  Dural tilted his head up. “It is the will of the Maker that he had made me recall this old story, for I had never truly understood its meaning until now.”

  Wulfgen scowled as he walked up to his liege. “And what is this tale’s meaning to you?”

  “I have come to realize my own body died many cycles ago,” Dural said. “I should have relinquished my title of Khan to my brother the moment my illness began. It is my fault the conflict we are in is now threatening to tear the Khanate apart.”

  Wulfgen’s eyes opened wide. “No, My Khan! You cannot mean that!”

  Nuada ran up to her husband and held him. “My beloved, do you mean you no longer wish to be Khan?”

  Dural smiled once more and stroked her chin. “Yes, I give it all up. I think I shall call for a council tomorrow, but it shall not be for war. We shall send out messengers of peace to tell Vorconis the title of Khan shall now be his.”

  Wulfgen was completely taken aback. “No, you cannot do this! They have my son captive! My tribe is in danger!”

  “I am sure we can all come to a compromise,” Dural said calmly. “Once he is Khan, Vorconis shall have no cause to harm your son, and Lorrt would eventually succeed him, for my brother is very fond of the youth.”

  Nuada shook her head violently. “No! Vorconis has his own sons- he shall no doubt murder Lorrt to keep the title of Khan within his own family. This is unthinkable! If you do this then you shall doom our very own children!”

  Dural remained steadfast. “Lorrt is his nephew. Vorconis shall not harm him- not when he has the full title of Khan for there is no need. If he wishes his own sons to succ
eed him then let it be done. I believe his eldest is more capable than Lorrt after all.”

  Wulfgen could barely find the words to reason with him. Everything he had worked for, all his struggles were now in vain. He knew Vorconis had no love for his tribe, and if given the title of Khan would no doubt order a pact of annihilation against the Zaash. He could not let it happen. His statement was calculated and terse. “My Khan, I must ask you one last time to reconsider this foolish conclusion.”

  Nuada could no longer find the words. She just stood there in mute stupefaction, tears streaming down her cheeks, despoiling the facial pigments that had been placed by the chambermaids a short while before.

  Dural threw his arms up in resignation. “It is done. Order the council to assemble and I shall make my final oration to them as Khan while I still remain lucid. Do not worry for your tribe, all will be well I assure you.”

  With a sudden blur, Wulfgen had his large hands on the Khan’s throat. The chief of the Zaash was advanced in age, but he still possessed the strength many younger men did not. “Enough of this madness! Your reign does end now, only it shall be of different circumstances.”

  Dural tried to scream as the other man began to choke the life out of him, but the vise-like crush around his throat constricted his windpipe, and all he could manage was a slight squeak. He tried to pry away the rough hands around his neck, but Wulfgen was too strong. The Khan fell to his knees as his eyes began to bulge from his sockets, the pressure of the choke causing intense pain while dulling his remaining senses.

  Nuada’s hands were over her mouth, consciously stifling a scream that would have alerted the guards in the outer chambers. Tears continued to stream down her eyelids. She still had some affection for the Khan, but she knew this act had to be done. Seeing his death throes was heartbreaking, but the voices in her head kept telling her to stay calm, to think only of Wulfgen’s son and of her daughter.