Shades of Azmattia

by Slawomir Rapala

Table of Contents
Part 3
appears in this issue.

part 4 of 5

They went back to their horses. Aezubah quickly made a torch from a long shaft he found in the debris scattered on the ground, a piece of cloth torn off his clothing, and a touch of animal fat he had in his sack. Aezubah gripped the lit torch as they came back up the steps. He was sure they were being followed. He bared his sword and held it tightly in his other hand as he and Livia approached the dark door opening.

The General was the first to move cautiously through the opening and enter the palace hall. He looked around with suspicion, the tip of his sword glimmering in the light of the flame.

Livia entered behind him and then they both halted, gazing around in awe. They stood in a large hall with a ceiling so high that it disappeared into the darkness above them. Several massive columns provided support for the structure, but there was almost nothing else in the great hall; it was empty of furniture or decorations save for a few paintings on the walls. The paintings had at one time represented terrible dragons and other archaic and mythical monsters, but the scenes were now almost completely destroyed by time; the colours had been almost completely abraded by wind and sand.

Livia looked at the walls and chuckled nervously. “You think one of these paintings represents the monsters guarding King Naluu’s treasure?” she asked. Her voice was amplified by the tall walls and ceilings.

The General said nothing. He slowly walked to the middle of the great hall, tightly gripping the sword in one hand and the torch in the other. His forehead creased as he peered into the darkness. There was nothing about this place that he liked. Everything in his aging body screamed for him to turn and leave.

Still looking around with distrust, Aezubah motioned for Livia to come closer. They stood side by side in the middle of the great hall, their shadows dancing on the walls around them, taking on the most fantastic shapes and forms, interlocking with the terrible paintings around them.

“What is it?” Livia asked again, this time glancing around fearfully.

The General focused his eyes on the darkest corner of the room, where he sensed there to be a door leading to the next chamber of the ruined Palace. He thought he heard stifled voices coming from that direction and he could almost swear that just a moment ago he spotted someone or something moving swiftly just beyond the reach of his torch light.

“We’re not alone here,” he whispered into Livia’s ear. The girl looked at him with fear and made a move as if she wanted to say something, but he motioned her to be silent. “Keep your voice down. I don’t know who or what they are, and what they want from us, but it looks like we’re surrounded by them.”

“They’re here?” she whispered glancing around.

“They’re by the walls, keeping away from the light,” he followed her gaze. “They move as we move, always staying beyond the reach of light.”

“What do we do?” her voice betrayed great fear.

“I don’t know,” Aezubah scratched his head, a gesture that in any other situation would be comical. “We should probably leave. Maybe they just want to scare us off, so that we don’t venture further into the Palace?”

“What about the treasure?”

“We don’t know if it’s actually here,” he shrugged. “And right now my concern is to get us out of here alive and in one piece.”

“So we’re leaving?”

“Slowly, back the way we came from,” he turned on his heel and started towards the door leading outside.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the great hall and the flame went out. Aezubah cursed and halted. Livia reached out for his hand and cuddled to his side while he dropped the useless torch and tried to penetrate the darkness. They could see and hear nothing, blinded like rats in a maze. The silence itself was deafening.

They stood for several long moments and then, just when Aezubah started to ease his tensed body, they heard a faint noise. At the same time they saw a light appear to the side of them. A tall, dark figure moved closer, holding an oil lamp in an outstretched hand.

Aezubah bared his teeth and waited with a menacing glare in his eyes, ready to spring forward, sword in hand. Livia looked around and a faint cry escaped her lips. Along the walls of the great hall there stood several dozen armed men, surrounding them completely and blocking any way of escape.

Before them they saw an old man wrapped in a long, torn cloak. The hood was drawn back and revealed a pale face and a set of dark, burning eyes. He was the one holding the lamp. Though he himself was not armed, the rest of the men were clutching all sorts of weapons: swords, sabres, daggers, maces, and axes.

Aezubah quickly realized that what they had before them were not professional soldiers, but riff-raff, perhaps a group of bandits. But there were many of them and even Aezubah, as skilled as he was in handling a sword, could not fight so many opponents.

He lowered his blade and focused his eyes on the old man before them. Their eyes met and Aezubah cursed again, this time at the top of his lungs, unable to hide his rage. Livia looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head and clenched his teeth.

“So we meet again, stranger,” the old man said. His voice sounded unnaturally loud as it echoed off the walls and the tall ceilings of the great hall.

“Traitor,” Aezubah hissed.

Livia held his hand tightly.

“Who is he?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“The storyteller from Oyan,” Aezubah replied shaking his head in disgust. Though his eyes never left the old man’s face, neither did he lose sight of his remaining foes. He realized that his life and the life of the girl were hanging by a thread.

“My name is Akhbar,” the old man screeched and then grinned with malice. “As a storyteller I have lured many fools into this city.”

“Wretched dog!” Aezubah barked.

Livia looked at him with a mixture of fear and wonder. This was the first time she had seen the General lose his solemn composure and surrender to the rage that boiled beneath his trademark stoicism.

The aged Bandikoyan still had the disgusting grin plastered to his face: “You filled your head with images of riches and wealth, stranger and came here unable to control your greed. And you managed to bring a friend along, too. Yes, she is gorgeous,” he turned to Livia with a lewd smile. She backed away, hiding behind Aezubah’s back.

“I’ll get you in my hands, you old crook!” the General stepped forward with a threatening flicker in his eyes. “And when I do, I’ll open you up and pull out your rotten soul!”

“Best watch yourself!” Akhbar took a step back toward his men. “Or you’ll be eating dirt long before me! Drop your weapons!”

Aezubah laughed menacingly and swung his sword hard, though the old man was far beyond his reach.

“Don’t be stupid!” Akhbar shouted. “My men will tear you to pieces! Drop the sword and surrender yourselves to us!”

The firm command brought Aezubah back to his senses. He realized he stood no chance against the two or three dozen men. If he were alone, he would have died rather than be captured. But his life was not the only one at stake now. He had the girl to think about, the girl who trusted him, counting on his strong arm and his protection.

After a brief moment of uncertainty, Aezubah threw his sword down and watched with resignation as it bounced off the stone floor with a loud metallic clank before coming to rest at the feet of Akhbar. The old man grinned again and motioned for his men to take the prisoners. Several of the thugs approached Aezubah and Livia with their swords drawn, while others came holding ropes. They tackled them brutally and tied their hands behind their backs.

Aezubah said nothing during the humiliating ordeal and Livia was quiet as well, though some of the men touched and stroked her as they bound her, groping her breasts and searching under her skirt, laughing and exchanging vulgar jokes at the same time.

Akhbar’s sharp voice put a quick end to this obscene spectacle and the men quieted down. They dragged their prisoners through the great hall, pass the massive columns and walls covered with paintings, into the corner where Aezubah thought he spotted a doorway before. Sure enough, there it was, a doorway leading into another chamber, much smaller than the first. The thugs dragged them there and lay them in the corner of the hall, tied tightly and unable to move at all.

Following Akhbar’s orders, the men later gathered some wood and debris and lit several large fires in the middle of the hall, some distance away from the prisoners. A few of them disappeared and came back a moment later carrying several barrels of wine and a large quantity of meat, things which they had hidden away in other chambers.

Aezubah looked at it all with quiet disgust, realizing that the remaining portion of the night the thugs were going to spend eating and drinking, and who knew what would happen if they were to get out of control? He saw that Akhbar held them all on a short leash, a surprising fact because the man seemed too old and feeble to lead such riff-raff. At any rate, the General was not sure whether the aged storyteller would be able to control his men once they were drunk and dumb with the wine. It would be best if they could find a way to escape unnoticed using the time they had now.

Aezubah pulled himself up and leaned his back against the stone wall. He looked over to his side where Livia lay. She was just as tightly bound as he was. The thugs obviously did not want to take any chances.

“Livia?” he asked. There was enough clatter around to drown out their voices. Their captors paid no heed to them and busied themselves eating, drinking, gambling, and laughing.

“Yes?” her voice was breaking.

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No,” she said. “Not yet, anyway. What are they going to do with us?”

“We have nothing to fear until morning. They’ll get drunk and then sleep, leaving us in peace for now. We have some time, maybe we’ll figure a way out of here.”

“You think there is hope?” Livia asked and her eyes lit up.

“This is nothing. I’ve had worse, believe me,” Aezubah spoke with confidence, thinking back to the dark dungeons of Reele.

“So think of something,” she said with childish innocence.

Aezubah looked at her with a hint of impatience, but the light was dim and she did not notice his expression.

“You think it’s that easy when you’re tied up like cattle waiting to be slaughtered?” he scoffed. “Did you not see the three dozen armed thugs sitting between us and the doorway?”

“So you have no hope either?” her voice broke down again.

“Calm your pretty self down,” the General joked. “I didn’t say that. Just give me some time to think this through. Maybe I can break free...”

But the bonds were strong and no matter how much he struggled, Aezubah could not break them. The thugs had taken all his weapons, including the dagger he had hidden in his riding boot. They were helpless against the band of ruthless men, led by a mysterious Bandikoyan who, despite his advanced age, seemed to hold tremendous power over the group. Something about Akhbar was unnatural, Aezubah thought, and whatever it was, it sent shivers down his spine.

* * *

Despite Aezubah’s initial concerns, the night passed without incident. The thugs ate and drank, and then they slept, leaving two of their comrades to guard the prisoners. Aezubah gazed at them from half-closed eyes. Who were these people? What were they doing here, in the ruins of this ancient city, a remnant of civilization that flourished eons ago, in a time long forgotten, in a world that no longer existed?

Aezubah studied the men as they ate and noted that the group was comprised of members of different nations. He saw Bandikoyans, Burrodhians, two Nekryans, even a Tha-kian. It failed to make sense that all these people worked together in a group. What was their goal, their purpose, what were they doing here? They could not be simple thugs, because aside from weapons, they had taken nothing from Aezubah and Livia, leaving him even the pouch where he kept his last fist-full of gold coins. Besides, simple bandits would not stage an act with the storyteller in Oyan.

Akhbar knew very well that Aezubah had nothing when he set out into the desert. Akhbar had lured him, after all, with images of gold and riches. If they were a band of thieves and murderers, they would be waiting on the roads, waiting on caravans of merchants travelling to Oyan.

But there must be a purpose behind this absurdity. Who were they? Who was Akhbar? How did he, an old man, managed to even get to the ruins of the city this fast, when it had taken Aezubah so long to cover the same distance? The General shook his head; nothing seemed to make sense.

Morning came, but it brought no change and no relief to their situation. Livia woke from a brief and anxious sleep and looked at Aezubah for answers. He had none. The thugs soon rose to their feet one after another, but Aezubah did not see Akhbar among them.

The old man came later, already dressed in his long, worn-out cloak, smoking a pipe, a devious grin again twisting his lips. He ordered his men to put out the fires and to get ready. Approaching the prisoners, Akhbar motioned to have them untied. Aezubah and Livia were cut free and pulled to their feet. Their legs almost caved after having been tied for most of the night. Livia groaned as the blood rushed back into her tortured limbs.

“What’s going on?” Aezubah asked. “Where are you taking us?”

To be continued...