by Jon Monson
“Aw, stones,” Seb cursed. “They managed to do a number on you. I don’t think you’ll be able to travel like that.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to find a Healer,” Aydiin gasped. He hoped there would be one nearby.
“I don’t think we have time for that,” Seb said before looking around.
Closing his eyes, Seb placed his hands onto Aydiin’s ribcage. Ice poured into his veins, immediately followed by scorching flames. The pain flooded his entire body, and Aydiin screamed.
The pain began to melt away, the extreme sensations easing. Aydiin lifted an arm to feel at his broken ribs – it was as if they had never been touched. Even the stiffness in his muscles from being stuffed into a basket overnight was gone.
“You’re a Healer?” Aydiin gasped.
“Don’t you tell a soul,” Seb muttered. “As a mercenary, I would never be able to live it down. I make a living by killing people, not healing ‘em. It’s not my fault my mother gave me a blasted Stone before I could even walk.”
“Sebastian, you are full of surprises,” Aydiin said, smiling. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Before you do, we should really get going,” Seb said, once again glancing around nervously. “It looks like we got all of them, but that lot is also full of surprises, and they’re rarely the good sort. Come on, I’ve got two horses up the hill.”
Not only feeling fully healed, but also incredibly rested and refreshed, Aydiin had to stop himself from running up the hill. He fully understood Seb’s hesitance to remain on the dock. So far, whoever was trying to kill him had proven rather persistent. He did not like the idea of sticking around to see what happened when they realized their latest attempt had been foiled.
The horses Seb had brought were long past their prime, and it looked like they had spent a good number of years behind a plow. Aydiin was used to fiery kerton or, at the very least, spirited stallions from his father’s stables. He barely knew how to handle such gentle and tired creatures.
“Do you mind if I ask where you obtained these valiant steeds?” Aydiin asked as he swung his right leg over the mare’s body, planting himself firmly in the saddle. He had to admit, after a night cramped into a basket, it felt wonderful to be back in a saddle.
“Well,” Seb sighed as he also climbed up onto his horse, “When I saw that they had taken you, I had to act quickly. They were in a cart, and I knew I couldn’t keep up on foot. I passed by a farmer’s field right outside of Palmas, and these two creatures were just out grazing.”
“I don’t normally condone thievery,” Aydiin nodded. “Especially from those who can ill-afford it. However, I believe the Divines will understand in this particular scenario.”
“It wasn’t thievery,” Seb replied, also mounting his own horse. “I left more than enough coin for the farmer to buy even better horses.”
Before Aydiin could pose another question, Seb dug his heels into his mount and took off down the road at a healthy trot. With a yelp, Aydiin did the same, and was somewhat surprised by the speed with which the horse obeyed his command. Maybe he had misjudged the aged, shaggy creature. He urged his horse to move faster to catch up to his savior.
“We’re heading towards the mountains,” Aydiin commented, pointing to the Pharone Mountains ahead of them. “Shouldn’t we be going back to Palmas?”
“Do you think you’ll be safe from them there?” Seb responded darkly. “We’ve just taken down a small group, but there will be more if we return to the city. I think our best chance is to remain out here.”
Aydiin nodded as they continued to trot, moving further and further from the small battlefield. He knew that they likely didn’t have too long before the men’s cronies came to investigate. Aydiin still wished he knew more about what was happening.
“Seb,” Aydiin began slowly. “You seem to know more about what’s happening than I do. Would you mind illuminating me?”
“Well, that’s a bit of a long story,” the old man coughed. “But basically, when we spoke on the Oosman that first night, I saw something in you – something that’s worth protecting.”
“You saw the Markings on my face,” Aydiin realized. That night he had spoken to Seb for the first time, his Markings had flared up again. It had only been for a moment, and he’d hoped the old soldier hadn’t noticed. He had been wrong.
“Right,” Seb said. “I’d heard about the assassination attempt in Maradon that morning, and I assumed it was because of whatever is happening with your face. You have some very powerful people after you, My Prince.”
“So, what do we do now?” Aydiin asked. “I’m sure we both have a price on our heads. Is there anywhere we can be safe?”
“I’m not sure,” Seb replied, rubbing the top of his head, which Aydiin realized was now bald, the thick hair having been shaved off. “I know we shouldn’t go back to Palmas, though - or Maradon, for that matter.”
“I may have an idea,” Aydiin said hesitantly. “There is a monastery in the Pharone Mountains. The monks there curate the largest known library in the world – if anyone has the answers, it would be these monks.”
“The monastery at Mount Pietra,” Seb sighed. “I was afraid you were going to suggest that.”
“Afraid?” Aydiin asked.
“Oh, it’s just a long trip,” Seb said, scratching his beard.
“Well, if we’re not safe anywhere, we might as well keep on the move,” Aydiin said. “And if we have to keep on the move, we might as well have a destination.”
“I guess you’re right,” Seb replied.
“You’re sure we can’t go back to Palmas,” Aydiin asked. “Even just for a day?”
“Have you lost your mind?” Seb exclaimed. “We’re already a full day north of Palmas. By the time we got back, there will be assassins around every corner, unless they are positive we’re not stupid enough to go back to the city.”
“Okay, you’re right,” Aydiin replied sheepishly. “It was a stupid thought.”
“I’m sorry for raising my voice on you,” Seb said, visibly calmer. “I’m sure you had a good reason for asking. Is there something important back in the city? Something that could help us?”
Not something. Someone. Aydiin was thinking of his betrothed. He knew it had only been a few days, but it didn’t feel right to just abandon her like this. He could only imagine the hurt she must be feeling – assuming she wasn’t also a target.
“It’s the girl, isn’t it?” Seb said. “The one you’re supposed to marry.”
Seb let out a slow breathe as Aydiin nodded his head.
“Women. The right one can make even the most foolish of decisions seem wise,” Seb grunted before his voices softened. “I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there before. Look, if you really love her, you’ve got to survive. That’s the most important thing right now. Going back in some grand gesture will only get you killed. It’s better to let her think you’re dead or that you’ve just left than to actually abandon her.”
“You’re right,” Aydiin sighed. “Well, let’s get moving. Those mountains aren’t getting any closer.”
Chapter 18
Gamila held in a sigh as Father Kadir entered into the second hour of his sermon. She knew such an expression would be audible throughout the Basilica of Surion, and thousands of her subjects would hear the sound. It was likely nobody would know it was her, but she knew her brother Bayram, who sat by her side, would never let her hear the end of it. She wanted to mentally curse the acoustics of the building, which allowed the speaker to address such a crowd, but she knew it wasn’t the building’s fault.
Instead, she cursed herself for not attending services yesterday, when Father Firat had spoken. The city’s population was much too large to fit in the Basilica at once, so there were sermons given each day. It was expected to attend services once during the week-long festivities.
The two priests that would be giving sermons were complete polar opposites, at least when it came
to speaking styles. Where Kadir was long-winded and monotone, Firat spoke with enthusiasm and excitement, his words bringing inspiration to her soul. More importantly, he generally kept his sermons under half an hour, even on such occasions as the Festival of Surion.
Gamila let her thoughts drift away from the sermon and the two priests towards the coming festivities. The Festival of Surion was something the entire nation looked forward to the entire year – a solid week of feasts, dances, performances, and of course, church services. All work halted, except for absolutely necessary functions such as police and Healers.
The Festival commemorated the end of the War of Divinity, and more specifically, the role Surion played in the Final Battle. The Church taught that the God of Fire had been absolutely essential in the defeat of the Undergods, so every year, the Festival was held in thanks to the Divine who still watched over and protected Salatia.
The crowd began to shift, the energy of the room began to change, and Gamila pulled herself out of her thoughts. Kadir was wrapping up his sermon with his usual plea.
“And so on this most holy of weeks,” the priest said with more emotion. “Please remember the reason we celebrate. Yes, enjoy overeating at the feasts. Enjoy dancing with a lovely young woman. Enjoy the spectacle of the Sultan’s menagerie. However, during the festivities, take the time to really thank Surion for His great sacrifice for us.”
“All of you within the sound of my voice have already taken the time to think, to dwell on Him. However, please take the time to serve others, for in this, we show our true devotion. I pray that you all may carry Surion in your hearts this week, and during the entire year. Amen.”
The crowd murmured their assent, and the aging priest moved from the podium to his seat. The crowd remained silent as Gamila’s father shuffled up to the podium. The daily festivities could only start once he gave the word, and Gamila knew there was a sizeable crowd gathered outside the Basilica awaiting the services to end.
“It is my honor to follow a man with such depth and devotion,” Oosman began. “And I want to reiterate Father Kadir’s admonition to serve in the name of Surion. There are many who are less fortunate than ourselves, and in times such as these, we are to be generous with what we have been given by the Divines. With these words, I wish you all a very merry day. Let the festivities begin.”
The thousands in attendance stood and a quiet buzz of conversation began to overtake the Basilica. Of course, everyone whispered in the holy edifice, but thousands of whispers soon became quite loud. The doors opened on the other end of the chamber, and those near the rear of the Basilica began their exit. Gamila remained seated, knowing it would be quite some time before she would be able to leave and join in on the festivities.
“Well that dragged on a bit too long,” Bayram sighed. “I wouldn’t mind these long services so much if these pews weren’t so uncomfortable.”
“I believe they’re designed that way,” Gamila said. “They’re meant to stop us from dozing during the longer sermons.”
“Quite right,” Bayram chuckled, his curly black hair bouncing as he did so. “So what should we do first? I hear there is a show with the elephants that Father recently acquired for the menagerie.”
“That sounds nice to me,” Gamila said. “That’s assuming we ever get out of here. I know it’s an honor to have reserved pews at the front, but it does make a quick exit nearly impossible.”
“I don’t care too much,” Bayram said. “Just as long as I’m not expected to stand around making idle chit chat. I can’t stand those little conversations where everyone inquires after my health.”
“Speaking of your health, I see Jabari,” Gamila said, and Bayram chuckled. Their youngest brother stood across the room amidst a sea of worshippers wishing to leave the Basilica to become revelers. For a moment, their eyes met and a smile spread across the young man’s face.
“He’s getting creepier by the day,” Bayram whispered. “I wonder if he heard the latest rumor that I’m involved in a conspiracy to kill father.”
“That’s a rumor that’s going around?” Gamila asked, her eyes wide. “Who would ever believe that?”
“It doesn’t take much for the nobility to believe the Crown-Prince would plot the death of the Sultan. In fact, it’s expected.”
“But who would start such a rumor? Anyone who knows you wouldn’t come up with that.”
“Of course not,” Bayram winked. “I have to give the people something. If I’m too quiet, everyone will assume I’m dead.”
“You’re much more clever than everyone gives you credit for,” Gamila said.
“You keep forgetting it yourself,” Bayram smiled. “Oh no, he’s coming this way. Quick, we should leave through the priests’ exit.”
“But we’re not allowed through there,” Gamila said as her brother grabbed her hand, leading her to the front of the Basilica. There was a small door behind the podium used for the priests. It led to the living quarters for the servants and spiritual leaders. From there, it wouldn’t be difficult to exit onto the plaza that surrounded the massive church.
“Do you really think we’ll get in trouble?” Bayram asked, weaving his way through the small crowd of priests that stood between them and their escape. “We can just say I was having an episode, and we needed to get me some fresh air.”
“What in the Underworld is an ‘episode’?” Gamila grinned.
“It’s whatever I want it to be,” Bayram said. “Being sickly isn’t good for much, so I have to be willing to use the few advantages it affords.”
Bayram grasped the door handle and yanked the large barrier open. A dark, deserted hallway was exposed and the two siblings slipped through. Gamila pulled the door shut as quietly as possible.
“Okay, now where do we go?” Gamila whispered. She wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t feel right to disturb the quiet stillness of the hallway.
“How am I supposed to know?” Bayram asked.
“I thought you’d done this before,” Gamila said, her whisper growing much hoarser.
“I just said we could do it,” Bayram wheezed. “We should just keep moving. It can’t be that hard to find our way out.”
Bayram led them through the quiet corridors that would have normally been occupied by scurrying priests and servants. Yet today, everyone was outside enjoying the relatively cool breeze that came from the ocean. The Festival of Surion was for everyone to enjoy.
Her brother turned out to be right. Within a few minutes, they were breathing the fresh air of the plaza, and Gamila found herself blinking heavily as her eyes adjusted to the bright mid-morning sun. The trumpeting of an elephant caught her attention immediately, and her eyes were drawn to the other side of the plaza.
Three of the largest creatures she’d ever seen stood in a pen where a crowd had gathered. Children pressed against the wooden fence meant to separate the long-nosed creatures from the cheering crowds. Trainers stood within, guiding the elephants to perform tricks, which elicited more cheers.
“Oh good,” Gamila said to her brother. “I was hoping to see the elephants.”
“They’re rather large, don’t you think?” Bayram asked as he stopped in his tracks.
“That’s kind of the point,” Gamila smiled, grasping her brother’s hand and leading him through the crowd to get closer to the enclosure.
It took some work, but the two eventually found themselves standing pressed against the fence. An elephant trumpeted as it rose on its hind legs. A portly, aging man dressed in the colorful robes of the inner tribes tossed a mango into the animal’s open mouth, and the elephant munched happily as its front legs returned to the ground.
“Thank you, all,” the trainer called out, his dark mustache flapping with the movements of his mouth, as he turned back to face the crowd’s applause. Dark, puffy skin dominated the man’s face, which was topped by slicked, black hair. He seemed most unpleasant to Gamila, like Barrick if he were from rural Salatia rather than urban Albona.
> “We only have time for one last trick,” the man continued after the crowd quieted. As he spoke, his eyes scanned the crowd. “I’m pleased to announce we’ll be performing the amazing –,“
The man’s words cut off as his eyes made contact with Gamila’s. She could feel the blood rush to her face as the trainer began walking over to her.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the trainer said as he reached Gamila. “We are blessed to be in the presence of the most beautiful woman in the world.”
He lifted his arms, signaling the crowd to cheer. The revelers did so with gusto, even though many could see little of their princess. Gamila wasn’t sure what to think of the man’s words. It was almost certainly part of the act – find a young woman in the crowd and involve her with one of the stunts.
“Who wants the beautiful woman to help us with our last trick?” the man yelled to the crowd as he put his hand to his ear, yet another signal for the crowd to cheer.
“Please, we cannot do it without your beauty,” the trainer held his hand to her as the crowd’s cheers grew more raucous. Positive she was blushing furiously, Gamila took the man’s sweaty hand.
“Thank you for being so gracious, my dear,” the man bellowed as he helped her climb over the fence. “This will surely be something the good people of Maradon will never forget.”
There was something in the man’s tone that Gamila didn’t like, and as she settled her feet onto the stone of elephants’ enclosure, she could tell it wasn’t just the thrill of the moment that was making her heart beat faster than usual. The portly trainer led her over to the smallest of the elephants.
A younger, much more impressive trainer approached her. The man was young, no older than Bayram. His dark skin contrasted with the white of his eyes and his pearly white teeth, and the quick smile he flashed at her made her heart beat even more quickly, but for a new reason entirely. The scalp of his head was smooth, meticulously shaved to remove every hair.
The trainer kneeled down and put his hands in cupping shape, and Gamila realized she was supposed to ride the elephant. The young man’s white robes were loose fitting, but Gamila could tell by the way he carried himself that was used to a life of hard work. His muscles seemed to be more than adequate for the task.
