The Maker of Entropy

by John Triptych

  Rion turned his head back down as he rubbed his sore neck. “There were some other carved glyphs near the top of the columns, but I am too small to see them properly.”

  Miri placed a comforting hand on the boy’s elbow. “Do not exhaust yourself for we have time to further explore this place.”

  Walking over to the front of the building that stood beside them, Miri lit her torch once more and peered into the small structure’s darkened interior. Inside the room stood a raised stone dais at its center, resembling an altar of some sort. Along the walls were modest alcoves containing crude stone sculptures vaguely resembling human-like figures. Handing the torch over to the boy, Miri led the way into the area. There seemed to be no other exits.

  Picking up a small, hand-sized statue from one of the niches, Miri examined it intently, but there was very little detail along its smoothed surface. It seemed its features had either been crudely made or was purposely obscured. “Do you know the names of the gods they invoked?”

  “No,” Rion said. “All it said on the glyphs in the columns were gods, but no names were given.”

  “Let us walk back out into the open,” Miri said. “This place makes me uneasy.”

  They both made their way back to the edge of the plateau and looked out into the distance. The city seemed smaller than they initially thought. Miri figured it was only less than a fifth the size of Lethe. A part of her wondered what they were going to do next.

  Rion’s eyes grew wide as he ran across the other side of the top of the ziggurat and pointed. “Look, look over there!”

  Miri ran over to where the boy was and stared out across the hollow vastness, into what appeared to be the heart of the city. What looked to be just another street in between a set of buildings was actually moving. Peering closer, she now noticed the surface of the road was in fact water- it was a river of liquid that seemed to flow in one direction, towards an unknown destination.

  They both stared at each other, their eyes wide open. It was just like the dreams they had before, only now the visions had become real.

  Chapter 19

  Orilion worriedly rubbed his bandaged shoulder while starting down at the corpse on the table in front of him. Tozhem’s eyes and mouth were still open, a gruesome testament to his violent end. They had successfully escaped from the Khatun and her Zaash allies, but now he worried over the crew of his expedition, for they remained as captives in the Khanate territory. A part of him regretted having to be forced to choose sides, but he figured the course of inaction would have led to even worse consequences if he had hesitated.

  Chief Cinil’s sand sails had delivered him to a hidden hold along a rocky caldera, somewhere near the contested territories with the pirates, for everyone was sure the Khanate loyalists would attack them had they gone over to Vorconis’s realm for sanctuary instead. There was very little trust even within the same factions, for everyone knew there were spies lurking about, ready to tip the balance over to the other side should an opportunity present itself.

  Looking at the waning rays of the sun from the cracks in the cavern, he surmised it would be eventide soon, and Cinil had already sent word for Vorconis to meet them at this location, so all they could do now was to wait. The entire fleet of the Tooan tribe lay moored nearby, for the fighting men and youths had left their families behind, holed up in their traditional mountain fortress.

  Lorrt staggered into the low ceilinged cave, a half empty bladder of wine in his right hand. He shuffled over to the corpse of his bond brother and gave it a smile before turning to look up at Orilion. “So, have you two been properly acquainted now?”

  Orilion looked away in disgust. “How could you even drink wine at a moment like this?”

  Lorrt shrugged. The inactivity had made him restless, and he used the wine to compensate. “There is nothing better to do. We have stayed hidden here for several days now, and Vorconis has not yet come.”

  “Chief Cinil is confident that he will,” Orilion said. “He said Vorconis is busy trying to woo as many of the other tribes to his cause. We must have more patience.”

  Lorrt belched before tilting his head up and downing more of the wine. He hoped their cache of the alcoholic inebriant would last until his uncle arrived. The fear of running out of wine was more important to him than any sort of retribution.

  One of the Tooan crewmen stepped inside the shallow cave. “The Khanate guard fleet has been spotted. They fly the proper colors and the lead land ship is close to mooring. Lord Vorconis shall be here within the moment.”

  Orilion bowed slightly as a form of thanks. “How is our lady guest?”

  “She refuses to eat and demands to see her husband,” the Tooan guard said.

  Orilion frowned. Karan had not yet been told about Tozhem’s death. Cinil wanted to wait until Vorconis arrived before deciding upon what to do next. The last thing they needed was for her to die too.

  Lorrt began to lurch towards the exit. “I shall talk to her.”

  Orilion ran up to him and placed a restraining grip on the youth’s shoulder. “No! Wait until Vorconis is here.”

  Lorrt angrily brushed his arm off while moving back into the cooler recesses of the chamber. “Oh, very well. That sister of mine is but a complaining canis. I only wanted to feed her so she would not die of hunger.”

  Orilion contemptibly shook his head. “I believe you are the last thing she would want to see right now.” He turned his attention back to the Tooan tribesman. “Make sure she has adequate food, perhaps I shall visit her shortly.”

  The guard nodded in assent before heading out of the entryway.

  Lorrt leaned over the table, sneering at the corpse. “By the Maker, he is beginning to ripen.”

  Orilion felt disgusted by his presence, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He would have to fight by the youth’s side if he was to get his crew back and return to Lethe intact. “Please do not mock the dead.”

  “I was not mocking him, merely stating a truth. Can you not smell the stench?”

  Orilion continued to look away. A part of him wanted to strike a blow at the drunken fop, but the last thing he wanted to do was to alienate his allies. Instead of trying to come up with an answer, he merely shook his head in repugnance.

  A slight commotion was heard coming from the entryway as both Cinil and Vorconis walked into the chamber. Khan Dural’s brother was livid with rage as he walked over to the body on the table and looked down upon it. Lorrt was clearly afraid of his uncle, and he retreated towards the back of the room, hoping he would hardly be noticed.

  Vorconis grimaced as he looked at the other three men. “What happened?”

  Cinil shook his head slightly in disappointment. “We had nearly gotten away, but one of the Zaash sand sails caught up to us and there was a skirmish.” He pointed to the corpse. “This young man was merely unlucky.”

  Vorconis glared at him. “Unlucky? It is we who are now cursed! The Zaash will stop at nothing to avenge their kin- you know this. How could he not been safely stowed away in the hold just before the enemy boarded your vessel?”

  Cinil was taken aback by the criticism. As chief, he wasn’t used to being blamed. “By custom he would have been brought down to the hold, and I had thought my crewmen had done that very thing.”

  “You are the leader of your sand sail,” Vorconis said. “Why did you not command your crew to stow him down below?”

  Orilion was about to state it was Lorrt who had brought his bond brother up to the main deck just before the battle had begun, but in the end he decided to remain silent. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in the middle of more strife.

  Despite being the lesser ally, Cinil’s own temper was beginning to fray. “Are you blaming me for the boy’s death? You know these things happen in battle. It is over. We still have the Khan’s daughter. You yourself said the whole of the Zaash would be annihilated once we were in control of the Khanate, so Tozhem’s fate was already sealed.”

&nb
sp; Vorconis turned away. In the end he knew the chief was right. It was merely bad luck Tozhem had been killed. “We … still need more tribes to come over to us.”

  Lorrt ambled back towards the table. “But, can they not see we have the advantage now?”

  Vorconis scowled at him. The violent escape was not his idea, and he had been horrified when he was first told about it. “We had the advantage before, you stupid, dust-brained fool! But due to your actions, it has disaffected the very tribes who would have allied with us.”

  Orilion furrowed his brow. “How? Almost everyone still thinks Tozhem is alive.”

  Vorconis pounded on the table with his fist. “By murdering those people at a feast in the Great Cavern, an ancient pact of peace was violated. The court of the Khanate was considered to be neutral ground since the formation of the tribes, now everyone thinks no law is sacred any more, and now it shall be a war of annihilation. None of the lesser tribes want to throw their allegiance to anyone at this stage without either side having a clear advantage.”

  Cinil had not planned for the massacre either, but he readily went along with it as soon as Lorrt told him of the idea. Now his heart started to sink, though he still felt they were in a better position than the Zaash. “We still have the numbers, you have the whole of the Khanate guard fleet at your disposal.”

  Vorconis shook his head slightly. “Not all of it.”

  Cinil was shocked. “What?”

  “When I gathered the fleet near my holdings, over a dozen of my captains failed to heed the call to the Plains of Assembly,” Vorconis said softly. “I suspect they have either remained loyal to the Khan, or they have fled to a place I do not know of and will not return until there is a clear victor. They even took their families with them.”

  “But … but that cannot be!”

  “I am disappointed in you, Cinil,” Vorconis said, pointing to Lorrt. “You should have dissuaded this young fool when he conspired with you about such a brash and stupid plan.”

  The effects of the wine had somewhat emboldened Lorrt. The youth walked up to his taller uncle and hissed in his face. “You shall not insult me like that! I am now the Khan’s successor, and I demand the respect I deserve!”

  Despite his age, Vorconis still moved quickly, lashing out with a strong, backhanded slap that sent his youthful nephew reeling to the ground. Lorrt cried out in pain as Orilion ran over to help him back up on his feet. Vorconis paid him no mind as he turned his attention over to the corpse lying on the table. Lorrt gritted his teeth as he thought about drawing the flintlock pistol holstered by his hip, but fear soon overrode his anger, and he rushed out of the chamber, leaving the spilt bladder of wine on the floor, its crimson colored contents muddying the dust.

  Cinil quickly realized Lorrt himself might not survive the eventide, so he quickly turned his attention to the man who could very well become the next Khan. “My apologies for going along with that impertinent youth’s scheme, Lord Vorconis. I now see the error of my ways. I was angry at the loss of one of my land ships during a supply run near the pirate territories, and it may have clouded my judgment.”

  Vorconis knew further admonishment with his allies would be detrimental, so he decided to change the subject. “Let us examine the situation. If we are to assume the worst, and my missing captains end up with Wulfgen and his Zaash, it still gives us more sand sails overall, but our advantage in numbers is only slight. The endgame will still be uncertain with those terms.”

  Cinil nodded. The Exalted had not even been mentioned, for it was clear whichever side they allied with would most certainly win. “And most of the other tribes are keeping away from this?”

  “Yes,” Vorconis said. “Of those on our side, we have your tribe the Tooan, along with the Kleset, Rik’ll and Somizol. The Zaash have the Irer, Kyangar, Ohelal and Yolu, their traditional allies.”

  Cinil frowned. “What of the Gyawigo, or the Thethtulors? They are the two largest tribes who are traditionally the neutral ones.”

  “They only sent emissaries who apologized for their respective leader’s behalf when I had summoned them, stating their chiefs had urgent matters of their own to tend with,” Vorconis said. “Rumors have abounded their sand sail fleets have combined with the land ships of the Phagizel, Fetesh, and Ennire, and they have cordoned off their territories, refusing to allow any of ours or Wulfgen’s vessels passage into their zone. I believe they will only fight if attacked.”

  Orilion narrowed his eyes. If only he had learned more about the politics of the land, he would have gone over to the neutral tribes, thereby safeguarding the expedition. Now it was too late.

  Cinil’s confidence was clearly shaken. He had expected to have most of the unaligned tribes to have pledged loyalty to their side by now. “But the Thethtulors and the Fetesh holdings are nowhere near that area, what of their families? Did they leave them behind?”

  “It seems both the Thethtulors and Fetesh have abandoned their holdings, taking as much of their treasures and families with them over to the Gyawigo tribal lands,” Vorconis said. “My sources tell me the women and children have been granted sanctuary there.”

  Cinil spat on the floor and cursed. “By the gods! Is there no one else who could join us?”

  Orilion pursed his lips while he listened. He had cast his fate along with his crew to Vorconis. He needed to think of something to help out the side he had chosen. “You mentioned these pirates- of what tribe are they?”

  Cinil crossed his arms. “They are composed of exiles and riffraff from all the tribes. Those people are nothing more than bandits who refuse to heed to the authority of the Khanate and oppose the Maker. My tribe has fought their raiding parties numerous times, and I suspect it was they who no doubt waylaid one of my vessels- the very one that was to trade with one of your protectors.”

  Orilion was taken aback. “If Zeren was with your crew when they were attacked by these pirates, then perhaps he might have prevailed or even joined up with them. I would suggest you talk and bargain with these so-called bandits, for we now have a common cause to ally with each other.”

  Cinil snorted. “I would sooner shoot them all in their heads with my tribe’s muskets than ally with them. If they did truly attack my land ship, then my tribe shall have their revenge.”

  “The nobleman from Lethe is right,” Vorconis said. “The pirates may not have many sand sails, but they would know of secret places where we can hide our women and children from attack. The territory they strike from is vast, and we could safeguard our tribes from attack over there.”

  Cinil remained suspicious. “What makes you believe they would ally with us?”

  “If they oppose this Maker, then we could surely get them on our side,” Orilion said. “If we could find Zeren, then he is worth at least three sand sails.”

  Vorconis glanced at him. “This Zeren fellow, he is a Magus is he not?”

  Orilion figured it would be better if he told the truth this time. “Yes, he is a powerful warrior, and could easily turn the tide of any battle.”

  Vorconis rubbed his chin. He had seen the Magus Fumal Led defeat over a dozen men single handedly in a battle and was aware of the power his kind wielded. Perhaps this child of Vis might even prevail against the Exalted, he thought. “Very well, then we shall need to mount an expedition across the old smuggling routes to find them.”

  “I would suggest I accompany this expedition,” Orilion said. “Zeren knows me, and I am not a member of the Khanate, so perhaps these pirates would not seek to kill me right away.”

  “Perhaps it might be better for you to travel in one of our sand bugs,” Cinil said. “They are the small, two-man vessels you see darting in between the larger land ships when we travel as a fleet.”

  Orilion nodded. “Very well. I trust you will provide me with a guide who knows the way through the wastes.”

  “That shall be done,” Vorconis said. “In the meantime, we have a lot of work to do. We must first—”

 
; Their leader’s statement was interrupted when Lorrt ran back into the chamber along with Bugurt following just behind him. The youth was in an animated state, with eyes that foretold of both eager hope and of a desire for vengeance. “A messenger has just come with urgent news!”

  Vorconis scowled at him before turning his attention to Bugurt, his aide-de-camp. “What messenger is this? No one knows we are even here in this location except for the scouts in my fleet.”

  Bugurt nodded in assent. “You are correct, milord. It was a land ship from the Gyawigo tribe happened upon one of our scouts, and they relayed an eventful message.”

  Cinil was impatient, and gestured at him to hurry up. He had hoped the neutral tribes would be finally allying over to them. “Well, what is this message?”

  “The Great Khan Dural has died,” Bugurt said softly. “Nuada has declared herself as the new leader of the Khanate. She has also decided to make Wulfgen as the leader of the Khanate guard. Three captains in our fleet- the ones who failed to meet with us at the Plains of Assembly- they have been seen heading towards the Khan’s mountain hold when the news had spread.”

  Despite the news of his brother’s death, Vorconis tilted his head back and laughed. Their position had just become stronger. “Now I am truly certain of our eventual victory!”

  Lorrt hissed. “There is no doubt my mother and Wulfgen are behind my father’s death. I know it!”

  Vorconis sauntered over to the youth and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Your father- my brother- will be avenged, that much is certain. I was unsure of whether the neutral tribes might still ally with the Khanate loyalists, but now I am convinced they will not. My brother had kept the peace, but many dislike the Khatun Nuada- and it means we have the clear advantage now. Let us make fresh overtures to the Gyawigo and Thethtulors, for if we can bring them to our side, then the lesser tribes shall surely follow.”