The interior of Amuzad’s cave was a sparse place, a natural cavern hollowed out into the hillside by the forces of nature over many long years. The floor was sandy underfoot, and the cave was cool, and while shaded, was not dark for small opening in the roof allowed light to still seep in.
In one corner was a pile of furs and reeds that served as bedding, while a number of stone jars and clay pots were lined up along the walls. Furnishings comprised of a simple table that had been shaped from a rock that sat in the middle of the cave, and around it were simple wooden stools to sit upon. Upon the stone table were some utensils and tools, of plain and utilitarian design.
“This is your place?” Ishkinil asked.
“It serves my needs,” Amuzad responded, “Though seldom am I here for long, for ever do I walk the lands of Arkech Usor, tending to its needs.”
Ishkinil looked around, her thoughts hidden behind her features. “You are not concerned that any could come here while you were away?”
“For what purpose? I have nothing of value and live a simple life. All I need, the land gives to me.”
“You are of the enku,” Ishkinil said, “And many are those who bare enmity towards you and your kind. The tyrants have hunted them down and but few remain.”
“I know well the ways of the world,” Amuzad told her, looking at the raven perched on her shoulder. “I have my messengers, just as you have.” A flurry of quiet movement came as a pair of desert mice crept out of a hiding place, and a handful of thorny lizards. One of the mice ran across Amuzad’s foot, scurrying away. Then they were gone again. “It is the nature of things. We can but endure. Should we live or should we die, the land will go on regardless.”
“That is not the way of the tyrants. They corrupt and destroy, and that includes the lands. We live in a dying world, destroyed by greed, and worse. Where once waters flow now but dust drifts. Where once forests grew is now but barren wastes.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Not here,” said Amuzad quietly, taking a seat on one of the stools. Ishkinil joined him at the table, before Heshberu reluctantly joined them. Arkech Usor has always been as thus, a land of deserts, or rocks and sands and hidden oases.”
“Yet those too are dying,” Ishkinil pointed out, “And not by natural means as you have said yourself. “Maybe it is not the touch of the tyrants who are responsible, but it would appear that by the hand and design of man it is so doing. The land is in pain, you said. We cannot stand aside and endure that, not while strength remains to resist.”
Then did Amuzad laugh, a deep and booming sound that filled the cavern. Heshberu flinched at the sound yet Ishkinil reacted not.
“Good,” said Amuzad when at last he had ceased to laugh. “You understand. I had to make sure,” he continued, “For though you are Ishkinil of Athan Arach, of who it is said that even the tyrants live in fear, my brethren have had those come to them feigning friendship, but with daggers in their hearts, sent by the tyrants themselves.”
“Your caution I understand, yet you I would know that never would I deal with those who seek to thwart the purpose of Enkurgil.”
Amuzad nodded slowly. “One can never be too cautious, not with the tyrants. I needs speak with the land itself, to understand what manner of darkness beguiles it, and for that I shall need to put myself in a vulnerable state, easy prey for any who should wish me harm. I need one that I can trust else it cannot be done, one to guard my back in dangerous places.”
“If by my sword and my life it can be done then I shall do so.”
Amuzad turned to look at Heshberu, who had sat silent the whole time, hunched so as to appear far off. “And what of you, son of Arkech Usor? Will you to aid us?”
“I am but a simple herder,” Heshberu responded. “What can one such as I do against so mighty a foe as is arrayed against you?”
“You sell yourself too cheaply,” Amuzad said, “For you have eyes to see and a tongue to talk with. Watch us and warn us and your part will be played.”
Reluctant he seemed but Heshberu nodded. “I will do what I can.”
“That is all we ask. Now,” Amuzad said, once more addressing Ishkinil, “What know you of the Heart of the Land?”
“Little, for they fall not under the purvey of the Bringer of Ends.”
“Aye, they belong not to the living or the dead, being but the primal essence of the land itself, as endless as the land itself. We of the enku know them, can speak with them. I have heart the Heart of Arkech Usor cry out in pain. We must speak with it, to find out what troubles it and its source. Only then can the waters be healed and life once more to return.” He rose to his feet, clasping his gnarled staff. “Come, we must journey, to the place where the Heart dwells and where we can speak with it.”