I
“Tell me, how was your journey east?” Jurko pulled a lever mounted on the cavern’s wall.
“It was great and harsh. People judge me because I look northern, even though I have lived in the south almost all of my life,” Nazeir sat on a bench made of rock.
Slowly, the cave’s wall revealed rows of five water tanks made of glass and chests after Jurko pulled the lever. The older purger opened the tap beneath the glass tank and filled the waterskin on his arm.
“You know how it is there,” he closed the tap. “Southeastern part of the continent constantly has border skirmishes with the north at the valley of mountains. They constantly fight with each other. No wonder they will hate you,” he then kneeled and opened a certain chest.
“Weird to think about it, don’t you think? A northern-looking man, speaking southern with a southwestern accent,” Nazeir smirks.
“Like Tabot?”
“Tabot has a northern accent. But belong here in the south with us.”
“You mean with me,” Jurko closed the chest. “Only me and the rest of the soldiers are Southerners. You pale-looking bastard!” he cursed at Nazeir’s skin.
“I’m tanned,” he pulled his sleeve.
“Stay indoors and let us see your actual skin,” he approached Nazeir. “But jokes aside, I have things for you,” he showed him the waterskin and two rolled leaves with something inside it. “A waterskin filled with rest water, and a couple of good night's sleep leaves.”
“Thanks,” he gracefully accepts the gifts. “I never had them for so long.”
“Remember how to use them?” Jurko asked.
“Pour water on wounds or boil to inhale. Burns leaves to sleep.”
“You still remember them.”
“Of course I do. I haven't gone that long to forget the things I know.”
“You’ve been gone for over ten years. Have you ever met Tamara now? That girl is now a lady.”
“I’ve met her. Did you know her father died?” Nazeir gave the news.
“I know. Each couple of days, I will check on the young one from a distance,” he sat next to Nazeir.
“Why don’t you go to the inn from time to time?”
“I have that covered. I made sure Jochi and the rest of my trusted men checked on her and left something for her,” he grabbed a pebble and played with it. “Foods, firewood, coins…” he threw the pebble at the wall.
“Sad for her to be alone. You need to visit her from time to time.”
“And you are her godfather,” Jurko faced Nazeir. “Let’s be clear. That’s your responsibility. After all…” Jurko wiggled his seat. “I’m not good at taking care of children.”
“I can’t believe how much older she is than the last time I saw h
er.”
“We do as well,” Jurko opened his gloves. “Even though we age slower from the hibernation inside the rest tank,” he looked at the glass water tank filled with blue water. “We can’t halt the ageing,” Jurko said, looking at his hands.
“What happened? Are you wrinkled now?” Nazeir teased.
“Not yet,” he blew a sigh of relief. “Not an old bastard…” he paused. “Yet.”
“That’s good. So tell me, what's new recently?”
“Let’s see. We heard Andruss militarised Kazymir. We mercenaries are no longer important to them. So we worked somewhere else. We went south and offered the tribes our help,” Jurko gave a brief explanation.
“We are not thriving anymore?” Nazeir concluded.
“It hasn’t been the same since Batunn divided. A new conflict brews over there.”
“I’ve heard of it. I met the marshall at the border of West and East Batunn. A group of brothers also told me about a war played between puppets. It’s like there will be no more real confrontation between the two.”
“True. We need to see other opportunities. We can’t live like this anymore,” Jurko looked around the barren section of the cave. “Living inside this damp cave.”
“Do you have any plans to get us out?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. Staying on the Kazymirian side has not been fruitful lately. Perhaps we could either switch sides or stay neutral. Let the bid win us over.”
“Don’t let Robert hear you saying that. That man questioned me when I returned from the east,” he warned Jurko.
“Then perhaps we can stay neutral.”
“Like the islanders?”
“Precisely,” Jurko snapped his finger in glee.
“What if the Kazymirian doesn’t like that choice? We are deep inside their territories,” Nazeir stated his worry.
“We can move out of here. Either to the islands or south to the tribal kingdoms,” Jurko presented the options.
“These are risky choices,” he rubbed his chin deep in thought. “Did Tabot give any options?”
“No. Our recent findings have intrigued him about recent sorcerer activities. That also can wait. I’ve been talking to him on that matter but nothing could convince him,” he blew the air from his nose. “Back to the options. If we keep doing what we are doing, then perhaps it will be our downfall.”
“Sometimes we need to wait until an option presents itself,” said Nazeir.
“And it’s much better to progress little by little rather than not at all,” Jurko countered. “If there is another option to this, maybe we can bring it to the table.”
“I don’t have any ideas right now,” Nazeir brushed his hair. “Say… tell me about your recent findings?”
“Gladly,” he rested his back on the cave’s wall. “Our contacts have been writing about recent sorcerers’ activity in the north. We don’t know what they are doing. But the reports are…” Jurko wiped his forehead. “Worrying.”
“What are the reports?”
“Perhaps we can visit Tabot right now,” Jurko walked away from the empty section of the cave.
The two of them wandered into the deeper section of the cave. Upon arriving at the location, Nazeir saw a mountain of books arranged neatly on the rocky ground. Candles lit the dark corners of the room, while a large hole let the sun lighten the cave.
“Nice natural light,” Nazeir glanced at the sun through the hole.
“Tabot,” Jurko called the elderly man.
“What is it?” he turned to see Nazeir and Jurko approaching him. “Nazeir, you’re here as well. Have you talked with the others?” his head returned to read a thick book on the flat rock.
“I have.”
“Nazeir asked about the reports from the north. Do you have the papers?” Jurko searched the room.
“It’s over there,” he pointed to another flat rock used as a table.
Jurko snatched the papers and let Nazeir read their contents.
“It came about five months ago. But the sorcerers' movements have been for years,” Jurko revealed as Nazeir read the papers. “Our contacts have been spying on certain sorcerers’ guild movements. Tracking their routes and their… packages,” he continued. “It seems the sorcerers have a large number of southerners in captivity, most of them are kids.”
“Kids?” Nazeir spoke in disgust.
“They are forcing kids to walk hundreds of miles in chains,” Tabot said from the background.
“Southeastern kids, to be exact. Brindorian, East Batunn, Rasan, Yakonai, etc…” Jurko gave the examples plain and simple.
“What about Southwesterners?” he asked.
“Almost none,” Jurko answered in confidence. “We also saw a well-known duke from Kazym visiting a sorcerer guild in the north. Precisely in Talmyra.
Nazeir has a bad feeling about the reports. Forcing kids to walk in chains? Southeastern kids? He recalls his experience in East Batunn with sorcerers kidnapping children.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Why only Southeastern kids?” his eyes spoke to Jurko, petrified.
“Not a clue. But I… We have suspicions on this matter,” Jurko stared at the rocky ground.
“The worst is that Andruss has something to do with this. Kazym might plot something against the Brindorian and their duchies,” Tabot evaluated while reading.
“What about you, Tabot? You don’t sound a little bit worried about this?” Nazeir demanded him to explain.
“Tabot has been researching other things,” Jurko gave Nazeir a clear sight of the old man’s work.
“What is it?” it made Nazeir curious.
“Do you know what this is?” Tabot showed them a rock.
The old man held it with metal tongs and refused to let Nazeir hold it.
“It came with the reports. It’s a homoret ore. Called the homoret because they are once used to create the homorets, the first generation of purgers,” Tabot explained.
“I’ve seen this ore,” Nazeir pointed.
“Preposterous!” Tabot replied. “This ore is rare. We cannot find it here, only on the northern continent,” he inspected the ore much closer. “This one particular ore was dug out from the Kingdom of Talmyra by the sorcerers.”
“Someone told me about the ores.”
The two looked at Nazeir in surprise.
“Did we just hear that right?” Tabot squinted his eyes. “Or am I going senile?”
“Someone told me that a group of sorcerers have been digging the ores for a long time. They are trying to use the ore as a weapon,” Nazeir explained.
“How’d you know this?” it baffled Jurko.
“I’ve travelled east and met people,” Nazeir left out certain information. “Someone told me about a group of sorcerers digging for that ore.”
“Is this information reliable?” the old purger asked.
“Very,” Nazeir answered without a doubt.
“Then it’s true. They are truly plotting something dangerous,” Tabot’s voice weakened.
“Should we do something about it?” Nazeir asked.
“If Kazym and the sorcerers are on the same side, then we might be in grave danger,” Jurko gave his thought. “We better march to them,” Jurko pointed to the north.
“That’s suicidal. Their kingdoms might protect them. They might outnumber our soldiers,” Tabot disagreed.
“They have the numbers, we have quality.”
“You don’t know that,” Tabot groaned.
“Nazeir… Can you convince him to do what we are supposed to?”
“If Kazym is involved. Then our hands are in a bind,” Tabot clapped his backhand. “Come, Nazeir. You know the risk of going on this risky march.”
“Each time we wait, then we may lose the advantage,” the older purger tries to convince Nazeir.
“We have no advantage! We don’t even know what’s going on in the north,” Tabot gave up speaking sense to Jurko. “Listen, Nazeir. We better learn what’s going on before heading there. Let’s talk about this later.”
“We already did! I’ve talked about this dozens of times! It’s been months, and nothing changed,” Jurko shot back.
Nazeir waited for the situation to calm down. He watched both of his friends' eyes and decided which path they were going to take.
Minutes later, Nazeir and Tabot walked away from the section of the cave.
“Do you think you can contact our men in the north?” Nazeir asked.
“I can. But it requires some time,” Tabot said.
The two talked while making their way outside.
“How long?”
“Back and forth? A year. But regular information will arrive each month.”
“That’ll do.”
“It won’t do, Nazeir,” Tabot stopped. “We don’t know the consequences of our action right now. This is an expensive expedition with a big risk. We may lose, and the sorcerers might work with our overseer the Kazymir. And…”
“Then we better know what’s going on before it’s too late,” Nazeir stated.
The purger left the scientist disappointed.
II
“Attention!” the soldier shouted.
All soldiers grabbed their weapons, wore armour, and prepared wagons.
“We will start the drill by tomorrow!” he announced. “Each soldier will carry their rations! You are your mules! You shall not abandon your weapons and your campmates!” he watched as the entire camp scrambled to prepare themselves.
While listening to the announcement, Jurko walked to Nazeir leaning below a shady tree.
“We will prepare the men. On the other hand, you will go to the islands,” he handed Nazeir a small piece of paper.
“What’s going on?”
“A part of the plan to the north. That paper,” he gently tapped the paper. “It’s a right of pass once you arrive at your destination.”
“Which island will I visit?”
“Iutasi, the monarchy. Not the Republic. You’ll find someone who will present you to the king,” Jurko proudly cleaned Nazeir’s armour. “You need to be well-behaved. Because the King might have something for us.”
“Which is?”
“He put up a bounty to whoever could fix his issue. That means I want you to head over there and bring us boats, big enough for our men and wagons with the coins so we don’t have to deal with the Brindorian.”
“It'll take a couple of months for me to get there,” Nazeir’s eyes filled with doubts. “Why not rent the boats here in the south?”
“But we aren’t swimming in gold, are we? We barely paying them since our contract to West Batunn,” he clarified. ”
The ships might be our way to the North. We land somewhere safe and march to wherever they’re at.”
“So be it,” Nazeir kept the paper safe.
“Thanks, brother. I couldn’t do this without you,” Jurko gave a handshake. “I know Tabot means well, but if the Kazymirs are plotting something with the sorcerers. We may be in trouble,” he let out a deep breath. “Times are changing. Once the purger sided with the north, and sorcerers with the south. Now here we are, the reverse. Perhaps it will change once again, and purgers will not be on either side.”
“Whatever it is. We will be ready,” Nazeir mounted his horse.
“No doubt about it,” he gave a bright smile.
Nazeir gave a two-finger salute and rode away.
III
Nazeir rode by himself back to Tamara’s inn. By the time he nearly arrives, he senses a disturbance. His body felt the tingling with his hair went spooked. Nazeir's instinct decided for him to gallop back to the inn. The wind caught up to him, making the purger squint his eyes to see the path. The sky went dark as if it were about to rain. When he saw thunder strike the earth, a powerful surge of magic overwhelmed Nazeir's body like goosebumps.
“What was that?” he murmured.
By the time Nazeir discovered the inn from afar, he saw Tamara outside, viewing the large thunder destroying the earth.
“Get inside. Tamara!” he waved.
But the girl froze in place when she saw another thunder appear much closer, flashing their eyes and blinding their ears. A power strong enough to shatter the ground far beyond the hill, and sent dirt flying to the sky before they fell. By the time he arrived, Tamara shivered with each step advancing to the purger.
“What are you doing out here? Get inside,” he scolds.
“Someone asked for you,” her eyes spoke in horror. “But he would not listen.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. He said…” Tamara stuttered.
A strong wind yanked Nazeir like a doll into the air suddenly, leaving Tamara on the ground screaming as he flew away. He cannot control himself, the strong wind kept spinning him round and round, making him dizzy each second. His hair felt the powerful magic within the air, then it fades away. The strong wind disappeared and Nazeir fell from a great height to the ground.
Before he would slam, a gentle wind caught him mid-air and softened the harsh landing. He rolled and recovered his stance on the ground. The purger couldn’t believe what had just happened.
“What kind of sorcery was that?” he observed the sky still covered in grey clouds.
He heard a gentle rustle of grass behind him. The purger held the hilt of his sword and turned around. His body felt pulled towards the rustle.
“You are the one who I’ve been searching for.”
A man in a robe called the purger. Both men faced each other in the verdure.
“Who are you?” Nazeir unsheathed his sword gently.
“You’ve been spoiling my operations here in the south, have you?” he demanded an answer politely.
“I don’t recall.”
“Let me remind you. Months ago, I sent my students here to the south to do my bidding. You came and killed them. You humiliated the brightest by throwing her classmate’s head in front of her like a brute you are.”
Nazeir understood his situation.
“Am I the brute when they kidnap the children in East Batunn?”
“Correct,” he immediately answered before Nazeir finished his last word.
“Why are you here? Seeking revenge?”
The sorcerer hovers his hand just above the grass.
“I want to understand you before proceeding with your ultimate fate,” he tilted his head.
“What are there to understand?”
“My novices did you no harm, and yet you killed them. Why?”
“Did you forget the part where they harmed the children?”
“It’s a necessary evil. I hope you understand the need for it.”
“Necessary evil is only a facade people used to justify their evil.”
“Then our world is shaped by the evil of men. Is that what you were saying?” he paused for an answer. “But never mind. It is now your ultimate fate.”
“Nothing is final,” Nazeir’s legs rooted to the ground.
“It is an impressive feat for a man to kill a novice sorcerer, a rare phenomenon. Your fate is this, I will give you two options, southerner,” he beamed. “First, I will give you great things in this world in return for your allegiance.”
“Work with a northerner?”
“I showed you a glimpse of my prowess. Join me, and you’ll be on the path to greatness. You will live like a lord in his castle. Decline,” he summoned the thunder to punch the earth on his side, sending the specks of dirt everywhere. “So what will it be,” he extended his arms.
Nazeir didn’t even move from his stance.
“Think about it. With magic by your side, you’ll be-”
The purger threw his blade at the sorcerer.
And he caught it with his magic, leaving it to levitate on air. The two of them shut their mouths, and their eyes talked with hate. A powerful wind pushed the purger into the air for a long distance, slamming him hard to the ground. He grunts in a small trench he made and was out of breath.
“Fascinating,” the sorcerer walked up to the purger. “You’re alive. Someone would’ve been dead after such an impact. Perhaps decapitated because of the force,” he squatted to see Nazeir much closer. “But you…” he observed Nazeir in great detail. “You’re about to disintegrate.”
So he snapped his fingers, and a bolt of lightning pierced the purger’s chest. It created a large hole right between the lungs. Nazeir can’t move his body after the intense shock. His vision went blurry and dark. He felt the ground rumble, and soon after, something covered his body, making it difficult for him to breathe through his nose.
The world was dark, and Nazeir couldn’t feel his body.