The trip to Zarvan was Hell. Complete, and utter Hell. I took our best horse, and even with her speed—she was having trouble trudging through the dunes separating the lands. Sand raked across my head with a ferocity I’d never felt, scratching my hands and any exposed ankle as the wind blew viciously. I couldn’t take a Wanabi Camel, they were far too slow and aloof. I needed to be on high alert for bandits and grave robbers. The runes along the way were buried to near-nothing, but mousey men were known to travel in packs trying to unearth their treasures. I wasn’t looking for anything of the sorts—nor was I dumb enough to bring any valuables with me on the way. I had brought enough food for the three-week journey, and plenty of water on my horse’s back. So long as no bad actors crossed our path, I would be golden.
Old stones—once pieces of palaces and libraries; homes, and places of worship, jutted out from the sand as Riah tried to keep her pace. The winds were their own beast, and I’d prepared a specially designed mask for her to wear to keep the debris from lodging into her eyes. I had wanted for ages to visit Zarvan’s library—the oldest in existence. The tales of knowledge hidden between their shelves were told to me on an almost weekly basis by Iirshad, and his dying wish was for me to seek out the knowledge that we had left undisturbed. To form relations with the Kingdom we’d been told had been wary of our very existence. I couldn’t just ignore the man’s wish—he was my mentor, one of few in Mahsul I’d have trusted with my life. I confided in him numerous times that something was wrong with the letters we’d received from Otlak, and his responses were always cryptic.
“God is watching her, wherever she is. I have no question that she’s alive and…” he trailed off, looking at me with a knowing grimace.
That statement was one of few he left me with before dying, and I didn’t like it. His throat bobbed as he’d said it, and I knew he wasn’t insinuating that she was alive and well. So, off to Zarvan I went. There weren’t many villages to stop at along the way, and if there was one nearby; it would be hard to tell by the sandstorms raging through the lands. I couldn’t have chosen a worse time to begin my journey.
I tightened the scarf around my face, feeling the sand pelting into it and stray grains falling through the hole showing my eyes. I wondered if the Zarvin people did this regularly, or if they had a more practical way to get back and forth between the Kingdoms. Part of me understood why they rarely showed up to social events, trekking through all of this was cumbersome to say the least.
Each day was a chore with the scorching heat, and the nights were almost as freezing as Northern Otlak. I had to force myself to get up each morning, with my throat so dry it felt like I’d swallowed the sand that never stopped bombarding me. Riah was an absolute champ through it all, I couldn’t have been prouder of handling such a horse.
By the end of the second week, I had made it to their jungles. The winds had subsided, and my vision was no longer the same shade of beige. Instead of dry, crisp air, the oxygen filling my lungs was humid and dense. Having made it further than I had planned, I laid eyes upon the river I needed to cross. The first few feet Riah strode, I felt the warm water as it clung to my clothes. It felt like I’d been coated up to the hip with oil once we made it to the shoreline. I set up camp there that evening, tying my horse to a nearby palm and lighting a fire. I reached into my knapsack, taking out an orange to peel as I crouched beside my fire. Just as the citrus-y smell filled my nostrils, I heard four sets of footsteps drawing closer.
“Mahsulians in these parts are rare, aren’t they?” A serpent-like voice hawed in Mahsulah.
“Quite…and one with such a build—are you a warrior?” Another man asked me.
I turned around from my knapsack, looking the group of men in their eyes. Four of them, all of different sizes, looked back at me with interest. I inferred the initial voice to belong to the leader, a man wearing breathable, yet high-status clothing and gold rings around his knuckles. The second man to speak seemed to be the large one, more fat than muscle.
“You could say that.” I replied, adjusting the wrap on my face. “I have no dhebals.” I added. I knew better than to offer food—it would be an insult.
“What brings you to our lands?” The man wearing the rings asked. His dark brown eyes glimmered in the moonlight. I could tell he wasn’t quite foe yet.
“I come in search of knowledge.” I replied, loosening my shoulders. If I appeared too tense, it could bring suspicion. Riah let out a soft snort, her tail flapping, as if agreeing with me. She watched the men with the same tired wariness as I.
“The library?” The leader asked.
I nodded in agreement, and he smiled. The whites of his teeth were the most distinguishable feature in the darkness, his cheeks were mere flashes of glowing ebony. I had never really interacted with Zarvins outside of their emissaries, and their culture was shrouded in secrecy. I had no idea whether he was smiling in amusement, or antagonism—but I didn’t sense hostility from he or his men.
“It’s difficult to get in there, you know.” The man continued. “They’re not going to let just anyone in.”
“I come with no ill-will.” I assured him. I didn’t want to mention, yet, that I had the Mahsulian Imperial Crest in my breast pocket. “I have matters to tend to that require further investigation beyond Mahsul’s libraries.”
The man hummed, bringing his ringed hand to his chin. His smile stayed, as he took a few steps closer. Once the fire illuminated him, I caught a glance of his features. He was handsome, with a flat nose and high forehead. The smile he wore was kind, his full lips parting slightly. As he took another step forward, the gold rings in his locked hair glimmered in the firelight. He was no bandit, most of the bandits in the area were Otlakian and Mahsulian; men trying to find riches for their families. The man before me was already rich, with little need to venture into the deserts to find such troves. Since he’d revealed himself in the light, I figured I may as well offer my own features in kind. I reached my hand slowly towards the back of my head, untying the black and white scarf I wore and showing him my own face.
“My name is Al’Namir Abyad, Strategist of Mahsul.” I announced, looking at the man with conviction.
He studied my features, lingering on my eyes with piqued interest. “Itunu Niwaju, Prince of Zarvan.”
My eyes widened in shock, taking in the man once more. He was befitting of the title, carrying himself with a feline-like sense of grace. His long limbs and sturdy build told me he was more than capable of fending off a threat from his people, and I instinctually bowed out of respect.
“Rise.” Itunu laughed. “There are no such customs in Zarvan for royalty.” He reassured me.
I rose.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness.” I said, bringing a hand to my heart. He laughed once more as his men came closer—taking a seat by my fire. I was intrigued at how quickly they changed, from men ready to ward off a grave robber; to men representing their country.
“The pleasure is all mine—our emissaries have told us about you.” He said in a melodic voice. He studied my appearance once more, probably noting the shabby clothing I wore. “I see you took note not to stand out as a subordinate of royalty.” He japed.
I smiled at him, nodding in contempt. “Indeed, I can’t go wearing my finest garb on a three-week journey, can I?”
“Why not? It could bring a few good opponents your way.” He drawled. “I hear you’re quite the fighter.”
“Al’Namir is a ruthless trainer.” I replied.
Itunu chuckled and nodded, approaching me and clapping a hand to my shoulder. His firm grasp was nothing but friendly. “My men and I are stationed on guard duty at the outer limits, there’s been talk of strange occurrences in this pass.” He told me. “Did ya see anything on your way here?”
I cocked an eyebrow at him in curiosity. “No, what do you mean?”
“The sandstorms have grown more violent lately, and travelers have rumors of some…thing…stalking the dunes. You saw no such thing?” He asked.
I shook my head, the only thing I’d seen along my journey was Riah’s mane and the walls of sand that blew against us. “No, Sir, only sand.” I replied.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Itunu shrugged, letting go of my shoulders. He stepped to his men, sitting beside the large man that spoke before as he pulled an apple from his pocket.
“Then these travelers are heat-exhausted buffoons, I suppose.” He drawled, switching to Zarvanian and taking a bite from the apple. His men chuckled, joking amongst themselves.
“Perhaps they really saw something.” I said, switching tongues myself. Itunu looked at me with an amused expression, his eyes alight with joy. “And what do you think they saw?” He asked.
“Possibly the same thing I’ve been in search of.” I replied.
“That is?” He asked, looking at me with the same feline amusement.
“The Child of Calamity.”
Itunu narrowed his eyes on me, though his smile didn’t falter. I scratched my nose, leaning against Riah. As Itunu looked at his men, they burst out laughing once more. It felt like a small eternity, the roars of the men’s laughters sent the rest of the jungle into silence.
“You jest, surely.” Itunu said after he and his men’s laughter quieted. I watched them with a calm face, despite my growing annoyance.
“I don’t.” I stated
His face grew more serious, as he became stiff in posture. Itunu’s men looked at each other, then to Itunu before he spoke again. The crickets had begun chirping again.
“The Cursed Ones are long lost to history, Abyad. No longer do they roam our realms—I doubt they’re the creatures we’ve heard of from travelers. Even if you find one—what are you going to do with them? Become friends?”
I bristled at his words. I knew it was a long shot, a pipe dream, to hope to find such beings. They were nothing more than folklore, and I was hanging onto the one shred of hope I had.
“Al’Hala…what do you know of her husband?” I asked.
“Little. I hear he’s a man good with words, and even better at manipulation.” Itunu replied with questioning eyes.
I nodded as he spoke, taking out a notebook I’d brought along for research once I’d made it to Zarvan. “Do you think him to be a good man? Have you met him?”
“No. I find him insufferable, but we are a people who reserve judgement until given reason.” Itunu replied. I wrote that in the notebook for my own ego, more than research.
We sat for a long while, discussing Otlak and their political state. It seemed that while Zarvan maintained a friendly relationship with the Northernmost Kingdom, they had their own reservations towards the country. When I explained the circumstances that led to Hala’s betrothal, Itunu tweaked a brow at me as insult lined his face.
“He threatened that we’d cut trade with Mahsul if we found out about Thueban attacking him?” He asked.
I nodded, crossing my arms to soothe the anger that welled inside of me whenever I ruminated on the topic.
“Foolish…I can’t believe your King fell into such a trap.” He stated bluntly.
I would have found insult in his words, but his tone was empathetic. He opened his mouth to speak again, but paused. The jungle had once again fallen silent, but this time it wasn’t caused by laughter. There was someone, something closing in on us, and I watched our surroundings with hawk-like focus. The only other time my surroundings had grown so silent was when I’d been sent to a cave on the outskirts of Otlak, to fetch a berry for pharmaceutical purposes. There had been reports of odd things in the forest surrounding the cave, just as I’d now discovered odd sightings in the dunes between Zarvan and Mahsul. We kept our wits about us, looking at one another with terse expressions every few heartbeats. It seemed like just as quickly as the jungle had gone silent, the crickets began chirping and lemurs began chattering again—as if discussing what they’d just seen lurking within the wilds. I loosed a breath, taking my hand away from my side where a concealed dagger lay.
“A tiger, maybe?” The large man asked Itunu.
“No…Tigers don’t smell of sulfur.” Itunu replied.
I hadn’t even noticed it, the rotten smell that filled my nostrils. Pure sulfur. My eyes traveled the surroundings once more, trying to catch a glimpse of something out of place, but falling upon nothing in particular. I looked back to the Prince, my body still tense with adrenaline.
“Should we get going, then?” I asked.
Itunu nodded once, and his men stood. They crowded around him as he did the same, and I began smothering the fire I’d created. It seemed my journey was going to be rather sleepless, and I’d lost my appetite entirely.
I was the only one on horseback as we made our way into the wilderness. Riah was more than used to such elements, as I’d taken her into Mahsul’s jungles on numerous occasions. There wasn’t much of a difference, aside from different foliage along the jungle floors. Occasionally, Itunu’s men would have to pull him away from certain plants. He seemed rather fond of the flora, telling me about different leaves and flowers in near-excruciating detail. The most interesting were the blue phosphorescent fungi that trailed a certain kind of tree, illuminating the paths we took as the jungle grew more narrow. Itunu told me that such mushrooms were highly coveted by their Kingdom, a treasure in their own right. As we walked, he went on for ages about how the plant attracted good spirits, and could bless someone with insurmountable karma if one dared eat them. We’d finally reached a point where one of Itunu’s men had to draw a machete to cut the brush down, to make way for all of us—mostly on Riah’s behalf—swinging the blade haphazardly and holding back additional limbs for all of us to make it through. I couldn’t help but notice how Itunu watched Riah with a glimmer in his eye, admiring her graceful traversing of the landscape.
“I’ve never seen a horse like her—how old is she?” He finally asked.
“She must be close to 13 now, I began riding her when I was 16.” I told Itunu. He looked her in the eyes, and smiled at her as she moved her head to examine him intently.
He looked at me with stars in his eyes. “How fast?”
“Fast.” I answered, chuckling.
The Prince of Zarvan was a talkative man, with a kind voice and kinder actions. He was a lovely representative for his country, and when I asked him why he never came to see us in Mahsul, he seemed rather disheartened to tell me about his family’s overprotective nature.
“Generations ago, we used to attend gatherings held by other countries. A distant relative of mine was nearly assassinated in Strolgia, and his parents barred him from traveling the lands. It carried through the ancestral line, and we just send emissaries in our stead, now.”
I pursed my lips and nodded in understanding, though slightly jarred at how such a thing impacted their family for so many years. Mahsul’s age was nothing in comparison, with only two generations of rulers. Zarvan had at least 10 generations by now, if not more. A small clearing could be seen at the underside of a cliff, a pass?
“This is the only entry to Zarvan by land.” Itunu said proudly as we approached the underpass. Moss and vines clung to the rock, illuminated by dawn’s first rays of light. The bright and deep shades of green were straight from a children’s book, contrasted by the deep slate of the cliff’s rocky material. As we went under the entryway to the kingdom, I was met by tired-eyed men and women waking to tend to their daily duties. The entire cliff had been formed into dwelling areas; opulent ones, at that. Each citizen donned fine clothing, with their hair in protective styles akin to Itunu’s. Occasionally, I’d see a citizen wearing their hair naturally; tight coils let free, drying from the wash it took to style. A practice I was familiar with, myself, considering how I had to wet my hair almost daily to fashion it how I wanted. The citizens who were out and about looked at me in a way I was all too familiar with—I stuck out like a sore thumb.
I was more than used to being stared at by now; I’d always been treated as a foreigner, even in my own lands. Blue eyes tend to grab the attention of those who don’t see them on a daily basis, especially when paired with tawny skin and near-black hair. Al’Namir gave me my new name based on my qualities—a fervor for survival despite the odds I’d faced, and my appearance:
Al’Namir Abyad ne Mahsul.
The White Tiger of Mahsul.
It was an honor to be given a title similar to Namir’s, as if I were truly his own son. But I’d never truly come to accept it. I’d grappled with my birth status since the day I’d been dragged into the palace by Asad when he found Hala and I on the beach, though over the years it became easier to digest. Still, when being ogled by Zarvin people, I felt like they could tell I was nothing more than a peasant that had been handed privileges I had no right to.
I had to make an effort to focus on the destination we were headed towards, as Itunu and his men led us down a declining path. It seemed like we were headed towards a cave, secured by guards, until I noticed the light that shone through the center of the underground cavern. On the ground floor sat a pond of pure azure; the dawn’s light glowed on it, dancing as the waters shifted with the breeze that traveled down the central hole acting as a skylight. The scene before me was beautiful, to say the least. The men securing the entrance eyed me with caution.
“He’s with me.” Itunu reassured them. I smiled softly to the guards, offering my most humble expression. They looked at each other, and then back to Itunu before nodding and allowing us entry.
The grotto was wondrous, with beautiful foliage and vines lining the walls and ground. The air was crisp, and clean, as if untouched by man entirely. I wished I could show Hala the sights my eyes were taking in, and sensations my body felt. My heart lurched at the mental image of Hala’s face as she took in the surroundings. I loosed a breath, continuing on towards a small entryway with two more guards at the entrance.
“Who is he?” A guard asked.
“Mahsul’s own Al’Namir Abyad.” Itunu replied with a smile.
The men looked at me and their eyes widened in astonishment. “All the way from Mahsul…?” The other guard asked.
I nodded, speaking up with a calm tone. “I come in search of advice, with deepest respect for your country and people. I’d like to see your libraries, if you’d allow it.”
Itunu nodded, as if reassuring the guards that I had his permission to enter the athenaeum. I took the imperial crest of Mahsul from my breast pocket, offering it to them as proof of my status as both an emissary and Strategist. Once they saw the crest, they allowed me in without another word. I was surprised at how welcoming they were, and was most certainly expecting more of a back and forth. The Prince led me into the library, the smell of old papyrus filling my nostrils.
“I hope your kingdom will return the favor, should Zarvan ever be in need of aid.”
That was all Itunu said before he turned on his heels and left me to my own devices in the library, his men falling in line with his steps. Alone in the library, save for a few scholars, I made haste to find what I was in search of.