Eight Era, cycle 1721 – cycle of the squatting dog, season of Unkh, day 307

‘Do you see the city on top of the hill?’ Granny asked Amaka as The Floating Bear neared a canal cut through the hill itself. ‘That’s Guhllied, the latest cause of strife between Trist and Kadambas.’

The word “canal” was a bit of a misnomer; Amaka had cycled some canal routes during her sojourn in Europe, and none of the canals were as elaborate as this one. It was a narrow strip of water; however, there was a wide footpath with a statue of a god every 100 yards or so, each decorated with candles and flowers. Granny explained that visiting a statue of your god, or a god on friendly terms with yours, would grant the prayer a temporary blessing.

There was also a large door at one point in the tunnel, which sounded like it was the scene of a fight; loud sounds and lights were emanating from it. When The Floating Bear passed it, a group of dwarfs and two humans sprinted out, closely followed by a stream of angry shades that were chasing them.

‘There’s something you don’t see every day,’ Amaka commented.

‘You’d be surprised, lass; dwarfs love a good punch-up,’ Granny said.

Cloud and Minion were delighted to have been freed from the confines of the ship; they were running up and down the ship, and even jumping into the canal, although they had to be helped back aboard the ship each time. However, currently, Syeda was lying back with her head on Cloud’s stomach as The Floating Bear exited the canal and was met with a wash of heat.

‘Wow! What the heck is that?’ Amaka demanded, waving a hand at her face.

‘That’s the Alcamarie; you know when you enter it because the sun cranks up the effort. The blistering heat is almost trapped in here; if you step a few yards either side of an invisible barrier, the temperature of the sun changes by around twenty degrees. The Alcamarie is the northernmost tip since the Lost Lands aren’t circular,’ Granny said, with her teeth clamped on her pipe throughout.

‘Damn, that’s hot.’ Amaka stripped to the waist and jumped overboard.

Syeda looked up at the sound and made eye contact with one of the Anasy, who jerked their thumb to where Amaka had dived overboard; Syeda and the Anasy rolled their eyes.

‘This is the life; do you do this every day?’ Syeda asked no one in particular.

‘It’s not often like this; Gorguken keeps us on our toes, so I’ll be made to pay for today’s lazy journey, to make sure I don’t become complacent,’ an Anasy said. ‘But yeah, it’s a pretty great life.’

‘What this world needs is Spotify! I bet nobody here’s ever even heard of The Presidents of the United States of America. People used to say I looked like a young Anastacia, but again, that reference is probably lost here,’ Amaka called out as she idly swam next to them.

‘What’s she saying, Syeda?’ the Anasy asked.

Syeda shrugged. ‘When she starts talking like that, just ignore her.’

*

They eventually berthed at a small dock, where Amaka noticed a heavy presence of guards; she looked one over casually.

Name: Briar Marks

Race: human

Genus: Common

Affiliation: sequestrated

Specialisation: guard

Class: C

State: fugue

Level: 34

Health 1,700/1,700, stamina 1,700/1,700, magicka 1,700/1,700

Endowment: unknown

Curses: unknown

‘Is it safe to dock here?’ Syeda asked timorously.

‘Why not?’ Gorguken demanded.

‘Well, there’re so many guards, and that can’t be a good thing.’

Gorguken nodded in understanding. ‘Whilst I don’t like there being so many guards – in fact, their presence makes my beard itch – it’s a foolish man who holds the Anasy against their will. A slight against one Anasy is a slight against us all.’

Before long, they had disembarked, and the girls went off to explore. Amaka’s presence was noticed as she and Syeda moved through the markets; the watchers sent a runner. There was a lot of heat and bustle in the market, and a lot of guards perambulating about – Amaka couldn’t help but notice there were a lot of young guards, so she struck up a conversation with a stall-keeper.

‘Where’d you get your rice?’ Amaka asked, picking up a packet of long grain. She hadn’t eaten rice since her arrival.

‘I get it from a Mikha; he’s a long-distance trader. You want some? Ten bronze per half kilo; I don’t sell much. I also get dates, olives and kush, if you’re interested?’ the vendor replied.

‘I’m Amaka; I’m new to the area. How much is the kush, and how strong is it?’ she asked, surprised.

‘Name’s Sami, Slim Sami, and that’s a silver for eight ounces,’ Sami said, pulling a smoking tube from a rack and handing it to Amaka. At Amaka’s confusion, he added, ‘that’s a “smoking Hake”, named after the man who invented it. It’s a self-chuffing bong; like an incense stick, right? But for kush.’

Amaka drew in a little of the smoke and held it. ‘Smooth,’ she admitted. ‘I’m surprised you’d sell this here – what with all the guards around.’

Sami spat, ‘Them?’ No, they don’t notice nowt; they’re like Mizaru, Iwazaru and Kikazaru.’

‘Who?’ Amaka queried.

‘The three wise monkeys,’ Syeda hissed.

‘Who?’ Amaka repeated.

‘You know…’ Syeda hesitated, and then placed her hands over her mouth, then ears, then eyes.

Amaka finally understood. ‘Oh, those monkeys.’

‘Sun Wukong’s guards,’ Sami added.

‘You know, I was once told that the word “assassin” was from the word “hashassin” because they used to smoke hash.’ Amaka was proud of that knowledge; she felt that would be a little-known fact. ‘So, these guards, they’re a bit… what? Complacent?’

‘No, I wouldn’t say that. The guards have been… well, for a while, they’ve been getting more and more withdrawn. We’d all assumed it was the stress of battle, yet…’ Sami looked around as he tailed off.

‘Yet what?’ Amaka prodded.

‘Well, these ones have been here a while; they’ve not once made conversation or even spoken a word that I’ve heard. I watched them chase down a thief and take their hand off without saying a word.’ Sami shuddered. ‘Creepy.’

‘You cut hands off for thievery?’ Amaka was appalled.

‘Not just that; the thief turned on the guards and lost,’ Sami explained with a shrug. ‘I mean, look at them; would you start anything with them?’

Amaka looked at them again and made a noncommittal sound. ‘Well, they aren’t that imposing. I mean, that one doesn’t look old enough to shave!’

‘I can see why an outsider might underestimate them, but they’re trained to an eerie degree. The Prophet might make some hard demands, but you can’t deny the results,’ Sami declared, watching a guard.

‘What do you mean?’ Amaka asked.

‘Well, he’s raised taxes; anyone with more than two children must send them to join the military, and you’re encouraged to have children to help bolster our ranks. He dislikes scholars as they often mistake the truth, but if they allow their work to be critiqued, then they’re accepted. All contracts must mention their contribution to the potentate. He also discourages us from moving around, but visitors are welcome, of course,’ Sami added quickly.

‘How kind,’ Amaka quipped blithely.

‘What happens if people refuse?’ Syeda enquired.

‘Refuse? Why would anyone refuse to obey the rules? People want to help. I know a fellow; he barely makes ends meet, but he always sends his taxes – plus a little more to help our boys out,’ Sami stated proudly.

‘What age are people sent to join the guards?’ Amaka probed.

‘Between five and eight; usually five, but they always join in the end,’ Sami boasted.

‘Why so young?’ Syeda asked, surprised.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

‘Indoctrination,’ Amaka murmured darkly.

‘There are benefits, of course; many people have become important under the Prophet and enjoy positions of influence,’ Sami continued.

‘Yes, well, it’s always easier to stay in power when you have people beholden to you,’ Amaka said absently.

‘Of course, then there’s the Spymaster, but that’s a different story,’ Sami concluded.

‘How so?’ Syeda questioned patiently.

Sami looked around nervously. ‘I’m not saying anything bad about him, of course, but… um… he makes me nervous. He makes everyone nervous – but I’m sure he’s a fine man.’

This last statement was said overly loudly as a man who seemed to be in a rather bemused state walked past; Amaka had to do a double take – it was the man rescued from the pedon lapsi. She abandoned the conversation with Sami and ran over to the apparition.

Name: Kaysar Iqbal

Race: human

Genus: Common

Affiliation: unknown

Specialisation: unknown

Class: C

State: confused

Level: 74

Health 14,800/14,800, stamina 11,100/11,100, magicka 7,400/7,400

3 gates opened, 2 shen points activated, 1 chakra point cleansed

Endowment: unknown

Curses: unknown

‘You? You’re awake!’ Amaka shouted, catching the attention of half the street.

‘Am I to assume you’re from the ship?’ Kaysar replied in a thick accent.

‘How’d you get off the ship?’ Syeda asked.

Kaysar shrugged. ‘I walked off after answering some questions. Your friends weren’t very happy with my replies, but they didn’t resist when I said I wanted to leave,’ Kaysar said slowly. Clearly, he hadn’t fully recovered.

‘So, what happened? How did you survive?’ Syeda enquired eagerly; she was actually bouncing on her toes.

‘It isn’t much of a story,’ Kaysar replied glibly. ‘I and some others were trying to fend it off and weren’t doing all that well.’ Kaysar pointed to his fresh scars. ‘Well, more through luck than skill, I managed to hack its arm off, and it didn’t take that particularly well. I was thrown from the ship and lost consciousness. I guess the creature fled, and you arrived before it healed, or it believed I’d died and waited for its next victims.’

‘Huh, is that all? That’s rather an anticlimax after everything that happened,’ Amaka said, deflated.

‘Well, is there anything you can tell me about this place then?’

‘Amaka,’ Syeda murmured, prodding her ribs. ‘Guards.’

Amaka turned to see that a group of guards had spread out to encircle Amaka, Syeda and Kaysar.

‘I thought you said visitors were welcome,’ Amaka accused.

‘The guards are here for your protection. Be at ease, only our enemies need fear them,’ Kaysar intoned, as if he were reading off a prompter.

‘Your presence has been requested by the Prophet,’ the guard stated in a dry monotone, which Amaka struggled not to laugh at. Not because she found his monotone funny, but because the man had an oiled moustache and bullet helmet, which – combined with his voice – gave the guard a comical air.

‘I hope we don’t get blamed for the attacks on his stageboats,’ Syeda said, biting her lip.

‘Probably; leaders don’t like bad news,’ Amaka concluded with a nod.

‘We should have brought the chests,’ Syeda bemoaned.

‘Oi, less of that. We found the ships bereft of loot,’ Amaka confirmed, and then added sotto voce,

‘Finders keepers, hey?’

*

They were taken to a sprawling temple, which was ornately coloured and designed with a mixture of plants and trees interspersed throughout it, offering plenty of protection from the intense sunlight. A second-floor terrace overlooking the town contained a large group of men who were arrayed like they were at a table, with one man standing on a raised platform before them. In the background, scantily clad women hurried back and forth.

Name: hidden aka the Prophet

Race: human

Genus: Common

Affiliation: unknown

Specialisation: rhetoric

Class: C

State: confident

Level: 124

Health 6,200/6,200, stamina 6,200/6,200, magicka 6,200/6,200

Endowment: unknown

Curses: unknown

‘Oh, good. I was worried he was going to be a tyrant,’ Amaka stated blithely.

‘Welcome to my little slice of Eden.’ The Prophet was standing on the platform with his arms wide open as if welcoming them into his fold. ‘I’m intrigued as to what would bring such a rare creature as you to our shores?’

Amaka blinked, then remembered she wasn’t a human anymore and blushed; she felt like a fraud when people thought of her as some exotic creature. She still thought of herself as a human.

‘Firstly, I think we should tell you that, whilst travelling, we stumbled across the aftermath of a terrible attack. Three of your stageboats were ambushed and destroyed, along with all the items onboard,’ Amaka explained, only feeling a little like a thief; after all, she’d killed the monster, which gave her salvage rights, yes?

‘My word. All three ships? There must have been hundreds of bandits,’ someone said.

‘It wasn’t banditry; it was a monster, a Pepsi-something,’ Amaka told them.

‘Pedon lapsi,’ Syeda corrected.

‘Really? Why would such a creature steal the merchandise?’ a new voice asked.

‘Who can say? Such creatures aren’t at all understood,’ Amaka said with a perfectly flat expression.

‘Were there no survivors?’ someone else cut in.

‘Unfortunately, no,’ Amaka answered, and then quickly corrected herself. ‘Oh, yes, this guy – Kaysar.’

‘Yes.’ The Prophet’s voice was empty of all inflection. ‘You live.’

Kaysar placed his fist over his heart and bowed. ‘Great One.’

‘Why are you alive?’ the Prophet asked with a strange hint of irritation in his voice.

‘I don’t know how I survived,’ Kaysar replied.

‘And yet, no one else did. Again.’ The Prophet’s lip curled in distaste.

‘I’m sorry, Your Grace,’ Kaysar apologised, going down to one knee and keeping his head held low.

‘Why are you still alive?’ the Prophet asked offhandedly, and then turned back to Amaka. ‘I digress; this act was clearly perpetrated by the Sultan of Kadambas, and we must retaliate imminently.’

‘What? But how could he arrange a pedon lapsi attack?’ Syeda questioned, surprised.

‘Isn’t it obvious? Who else would want to cause such disarray to our trade routes?’ the Prophet theorised.

Everyone nodded, even Amaka and Syeda.

‘No, wait, that’s a bit of a stretch,’ Amaka said, but she was finding it hard to think. ‘When you get attacked, you can’t just choose who to blame; it could have been anything or anyone.’

‘It’s obvious; the Sultan wants to control the Rhun, and so he attacks our ships,’ the Prophet pronounced.

His words were true, Amaka knew that, and yet there was something wrong about his words. If only she could think clearly.

‘You seem uncertain, child,’ offered someone beside Amaka – someone she hadn’t noticed being present before.

‘I don’t know; it doesn’t seem like something to go to war over.’ Amaka had to strain her mind to reply.

‘This one is resilient,’ the someone concluded.

Suddenly, the Prophet was in front of Amaka, and he placed a hand on her head.

‘You know that the Sultan is a greedy man; he sits on his golden throne with his harem and slaves. We’re free here; I have no throne, just a garden; no slaves, just followers. Don’t you think that sounds wrong? Shouldn’t we be more dominant? Shouldn’t freedom win?’

Affliction: mesmeric gaze

A strong mesmeric gaze is being cast on you; if you fall under the spell, you won’t remember this message.

‘Don’t you think the land should be free? Follow me; I can use one such as you,’ the Prophet declared.

Amaka felt herself nodding along. ‘Land of the brave and home of the free,’ she said, and then giggled.

‘Sure,’ the Prophet agreed in a soft voice.

Affliction: mesmeric gaze

You’ve failed to resist the mesmeric gaze! All references to the mesmeric gaze will now be removed from your logs.

‘Good,’ the Prophet announced, slapping his hands together. ‘Send them to the front; the gods know we need the help. I dare say they stole the goods, but it still serves our purpose. If they fought off that ghoulish being then they may be of help, and on the front they won’t be able to spread any stories that contradict our chosen truth. You, Kaysar, take them to the front lines, and this time, come back with your shield or on it.’

Two halberd-wielding guards stepped forwards, saluted and moved to flank Amaka, all of which they performed in perfect unison.

Amaka, Syeda and Kaysar were escorted out of the room and past a series of buildings, which all seemed to have open roofs draped in elegant cloth. They were led to a building with a large, red flag draped over half of it – a doorless archway allowed them access.

‘Reinforcements for you, Commander Traore,’ the guard to the left of Amaka informed the occupants.

‘Good. Send them to Outpost Nine. That solves their request for aid,’ Commander Traore said without even looking up from the table map.

‘Will it be enough, Patrice?’ a second man mused.

‘It will have to be, Kalichi; we only need the place to last another few days to allow our units to finish the pincer front,’ Commander Traore declared, and then punched the desk.

‘When you get to the front, pass on the message to Sergeant Flukes that he needs to last for five days,’ a third man ordered as he pushed figures around the map.

‘Good thinking, Samuel,’ the commander agreed. ‘That should give the flanks time to draw in if they can manage it.’

Kaysar, who was next to Amaka, nodded and led the three of them off; the third man – Samuel – did a double take as he spotted Kaysar.

‘Wasn’t that…?’ Samuel began.

‘Did you say something, Samuel?’ Traore asked distractedly.

‘I just thought I recognised one of the reinforcements.’

‘I hope not; I’d hate to think someone I knew was going into that bear trap.’