Takeo's Chronicles, page 36
“What does she mean?” Hyun interrupted. “Is she saying she knows of a place where a jinni can be found?”
“Close,” Takeo replied. “It seems this sphinx is making a great effort to communicate on our level. She’s actually saying she knows of a place that can guide us to where a jinni can be found.”
I think.
The sphinx nodded at Takeo’s remark and cleared her throat. For a moment, Takeo was struck by the oddity of what he was looking at: a perfectly human face slapped onto a perfectly bestial body. It was so strange to see this four-legged monstrosity speaking to him through human lips, peering at him with human eyes, and growing legitimate human hair from the top of her head. Truth be told, she was sort of cute in her own way, which sent mixed and confused signals to different parts of Takeo’s body. He considered himself to have a solid core, but sometimes things like this unnerved him.
“Travel to the graveyard of light,” the sphinx said. “There you will find a pinnacle that dares defy the sands, and atop it a master of the skies with no equal. Turn opposite your sword arm, and march into oblivion. What you seek is the tip of an arrow protruding from Savara’s skin, a leper living long past its creators in this world that time forgot.”
Takeo nodded and turned to Hyun.
“I know where we need to go,” he said.
“Excellent,” Hyun responded. “We’ll take the sphinx with us.”
“There’s no need.” Takeo folded his arms across his chest. “I know where she’s sending us. I’ve been there before.”
* * *
The sphinx was released, and they left the town just before night fell, traveling west to put a few towering sand hills between them and the massacre. Along the way, Takeo explained their direction to Hyun in limited fashion. In camp, Takeo explained in further detail to his friends.
“Of all the ancient structures left standing in Savara,” he said, “the biggest ones are these grand pyramids, arrows in Savara’s skin, as big as small mountains.”
“Mountains?” Nicholas sputtered. “They can’t be. We’d see them from here.”
“Not Khaz Mal-sized mountains,” Takeo replied, darting an annoyed glance at the viking. “I’m talking about the small mountains here. Imagine structures the height of the angels’ tower, but now just give them a wide base. That’s the size and scale I’m talking about. There are only a few scattered about Savara that I’ve seen, and I know that’s where the sphinx was telling us to go.”
Takeo was sitting cross-legged on his blanket, sharpening his sword between sentences. Ramming the blade into the sand to pin the sphinx had significantly dulled the tip and roughed up the edge more than he could stand.
Warriors were only as good as their weapons, and Takeo favored only one weapon. Besides his family sword, he carried a tanto, which was a Juatwa-style dagger, and a bow he picked up from Lucifan, though neither of the latter ever got much use. The dagger was a tool for cutting and carving, and the bow was used sometimes for hunting, but mostly as deadweight he just couldn’t seem to get rid of. He wasn’t the only one to carry such a burden, though. Gavin had been lugging around a crossbow and bolts that had yet to see anything worthy of the term action.
“How sure are you?” Gavin asked. “Not that I don’t trust you, but how sure are you this is where we need to go?”
“Oh, I’m fully confident the sphinx was talking about this pyramid,” Takeo replied. “Now, whether or not that’s where we need to be, we’ll find out when we get there.
“Here’s what the sphinx said, roughly, or at least my version of it. The sphinx didn’t know where a jinni was, but she told us how we could find one. Long ago, one human made it her destiny to find the jinn, and she left her life’s work in this one particular temple. The sphinx said to travel west until we reach a mountain with a roc’s nest on it and then travel south for quite some time until we come upon a pyramid. It just so happens I’ve seen this pyramid before with my brother, so I was able to convince Hyun to let the sphinx go. He wanted to keep it hostage just in case we couldn’t find the place, but that would just be a hassle.”
“Hm,” Gavin muttered. “Thanks for that. I know you wanted to keep her hostage, so thank you for doing the right thing.”
Takeo ignored him, focusing his efforts on his sword.
Gavin had undressed down to his trousers and was lying outstretched beneath the stars. Takeo imagined the knight was letting the cool evening air sooth his reddened skin where the sand had chafed. Crouching in those buildings, which were really just brick ovens in the Savara sun, had made them all sweat profusely, and Gavin had finally suffered a hair too much for his choice of clothing.
Not that he was going to change. It would take more than something as trivial as pain to break his stubborn ways.
“Krunk has a question,” the ogre spoke up. “What is a pyramid?”
“I just told you,” Takeo replied, frowning. “Imagine the angels’ tower with a wide base. Like an arrow tip.”
“No, no,” Krunk said, waving a purple sausage-like finger. “What is inside a pyramid? Why build them?”
“Ah.” Takeo drew the word out and then paused to run his sharpening stone down the length of his katana. “Well, isn’t that the golden question? As with just about everything in this damned land, it’s all speculation. The general consensus is they are ancient tombs of the greatest kings and queens of old Savara. People think this because, despite the pyramids’ sizes, the structures have maybe one to four large rooms max, and an altar of sorts in the middle of them. Or at least, that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never been inside one.”
“Hm, Krunk likes this.” He nodded, making a spectacle of his tusks moving up and down. “Krunk likes graveyards. The dead never bully anyone or say mean things, and everyone says only nice things about the dead.”
Krunk stared at the small fire they’d built for the night, the orange and red light flickering and dancing in his yellow eyes. There were many such small fires tonight. Hyun had decided that with a city full of dead nearby, no enemy was going to risk trifling with them when such an easy target lay within grasp. They could risk discovery.
Takeo took a moment to assess Krunk and his words. It always struck him oddly that the biggest and most fierce looking of their group was actually the kindest of them all. Unlike some brutal orc or cruel oni, Krunk had tasted a civilized upbringing under the care of a gnome who had a heart bigger than she was tall. Krunk had grown up in an orphanage and had learned those precious human skills that are so often taken for granted: humility, empathy, and understanding. He had been praised for helping, encouraged to be mannerly, and altogether ruined for society at large.
See, it wasn’t until Krunk was full grown that he left the orphanage to find only two types of societies: one without ogres, which saw him as trouble, and those with ogres, which saw him as weak. He was instantly shunned, becoming an outcast with no equal. Even Takeo, by comparison, was welcomed and loved among samurai. Krunk had it bad, and it was times like this where Takeo remembered that.
“We don’t pick on you either, Krunk,” Takeo said.
“Krunk knows,” he replied. “That’s why you are Krunk’s friend. Sometimes, Krunk just wants more friends.”
The ogre drew an arm across his tusks to wipe some saliva away, and Nicholas cleared his throat.
“Hey not to change the subject,” the viking said, “but anyone notice that Aiguo guy isn’t around anymore? It just dawned on me all of a sudden; I haven’t seen him since the sphinx attack.”
And just like that, it dawned on everyone else, too.
“You’re right,” Takeo said. “Where did he go?”
“What is this sorcery?” Gavin sighed, sitting up. “Why is it I always seem to forget about that man? He said he was going to follow us, right?”
“That’s what I remember,” Nicholas said and nodded, “which is why I think it’s weird I haven’t seen him lately. I was going to watch him, too, wait for the right opportunity to twist his neck all the way around to his back.”
Nicholas grinned wide and looked to Takeo, who smirked back. When Nicholas looked to Gavin and Krunk, he didn’t receive the same response.
“Krunk doesn’t see the point in hurting him,” the ogre said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Gavin agreed. “I remember we were all in agreement we didn’t like the man, but you aren’t actually planning on killing him just for that, are you?”
“I wouldn’t kill him because I didn’t like him, Gavin,” Takeo replied, more sarcasm in his voice than he intended. “I would kill him because he helped Jabbar, and that makes him partially responsible for Emily’s death.”
“Well, so are we, right?” the knight pressed. “You left her alone; I didn’t join her; Nicholas left; Krunk wasn’t there. We are responsible in some way, aren’t we? That’s not a good enough reason to kill someone. He was just a soldier following orders, and I never punished anyone under my command for doing what they were told.”
Takeo paused as he finished sharpening his katana. He held the blade up to peer along its edge with one eye and then rotated it from side to side to see if any protrusions came to light. Seeing nothing, he sheathed the sword and turned to his companion.
“I am responsible, which is why I’ve pledged my life to this cause.” Takeo spoke firmly, his gaze unblinking. “You feel responsible, too, which is why you’re still here. Aiguo, as well, is responsible. However, unlike us, he doesn’t see it that way. When Aiguo looks in the mirror, he doesn’t see a murderer worthy of execution; he sees a temporarily embarrassed general who backed the wrong side. I said I was going to kill him, and I meant it.”
“Takeo, listen to me.” Gavin hunched forward and clasped his hands together. “You know killing him won’t bring Emily back. You know killing him won’t stop what Jabbar did. When you kill someone, the only thing to consider is what his death will mean for the future, and what it will mean for you. Consider mercy. Think if you forgave him and let him live, what would he do with his life? He’ll join that Lady Xuan, won’t he? He’ll become just some normal soldier, one in a thousand, carrying out orders and trying to earn some measure of honor. Tell me, does he deserve death for that? Doesn’t he instead deserve forgiveness?”
Takeo scoffed. “Forgiveness.” He said the word as if it were a wretched curse. “No one deserves forgiveness.”
“You do,” Gavin said.
Takeo’s breath caught in his throat, and a silence fell over their small gathering. Takeo felt all eyes fall on him, but he avoided them by staring into the fire. They were expecting a response, he knew, but he didn’t have one. Not yet.
“We’re done talking about this,” Takeo finally replied.
“For now,” Gavin replied, and turned away.
Chapter 10
They rose with the sun, beginning their journey with the odd mix of lethargic and nervous behavior that plagues soldiers marching to war.
Not that Hyun and his samurai hadn’t been in perpetual conflict since they arrived, but with so much time spent hunting for rakshasas and getting nowhere, the lack of progress had lulled them into a sort of slumber. Now they were expected to march with purpose, direction, and the knowledge that their efforts might just bear fruit this time around. In comparison to most of their days spent avoiding bandits and dangerous creatures, this particular morning was riveting, and they were not quite ready to embrace it. The sun made things worse. With the light came heat, with the wind came sand, and with the marching came the drone of repeated and boring behavior. It wasn’t long before what little enthusiasm had entered them was sweated out, and their mid-afternoon break for water and food couldn’t come fast enough.
As they took turns enjoying the shade left by the golem, Takeo’s presence was requested—or demanded, depending on who was asked—to explain the destination to Hyun once more.
“I never went inside,” Takeo reiterated, trying not to sound demeaning in the process. “We merely passed by it.”
“And why is that?” Hyun demanded. “With the knowledge that is supposedly inside, how could you possibly skip over such a treasure?”
“A couple of reasons. Firstly, I was with my brother. If you think I held any sway in even the smallest decision, you would be wrong. Secondly, I did not have—and still do not have—any idea what was inside this pyramid. Thirdly, and this one follows closely with the second, skepticism is the most reliable defense in Savara. Old ruins like temples, mansions, and pyramids are often home to things not welcome in society. Sphinxes, cut-throat marauders, olgoi-khorkhoi, perhaps even a rakshasa family, and who knows what else. Not knowing what was inside that pyramid meant we did not go inside, though we certainly used it as a landmark. Ruins, as dangerous as they can be, are some of the best trail markers this land has to offer.”
Hyun didn’t press further, which ended their brief encounter. This suited Takeo just fine as he was having trouble hiding his growing disdain for Hyun’s presumptuous attitude. One would think Hyun would be more gracious to a knowledgeable and helpful guide like Takeo, but Hyun appeared incredulous, as if thrusting his head into the sand despite knowing the damage it caused. If Takeo didn’t know any better, he would swear that Hyun was being hostile through conscious effort. Or perhaps Hyun was just trying to avoid Aiguo, who’d suddenly appeared at Takeo’s side sometime in the early morning on that first day.
And suddenly was the best term to describe him. It unnerved Takeo to admit it, but it was if Aiguo just rose from the sands amongst their group of four. In the midst of teasing Gavin about his short-lived attempts to woo Qjang, they realized they were not alone, and Aiguo frowned apologetically at their stunned expressions.
“My apologies for my absence,” the man said, bowing once, twice, then half once more. “I was detained by other matters, but I assure you I’ll stay present from here on out.”
“I hope not,” Nicholas scoffed.
Gavin and Krunk gave the newcomer a scathing gaze before looking elsewhere. Takeo managed to keep his sigh cordial, though he couldn’t explain why he bothered to do so. He wanted with all his heart to banish this man from the world of the living—or at least tell Hyun to take his despicable lackey back—but his mind held him in check. If he sent Aiguo away, Hyun would take that as a slight at best, a sign of inevitable betrayal at worst, and Takeo very much needed to be on Hyun’s good side. Takeo didn’t know what they might find at this pyramid or how difficult it might be to reach a jinni. If the task proved epic in scale, then Hyun would become an indispensable ally, or a tool, depending on one’s view.
Takeo’s primary goal was power, and thus Aiguo’s presence was tolerated, barely.
Meanwhile, the sun ignored the struggles of men and traveled on, and they followed. It took a full week to reach the mountain the sphinx had mentioned, though they saw both the mountain and its inhabitants almost a day’s travel away. True to the sphinx’s word, a roc had made her nest on the mountain’s crest, where it was nurturing several mansion-sized eggs that could feed an army. The nest was made out of a small forest of palm trees, while the roc was a beautiful creature of white and brown feathers with a stark yellow beak. Sitting atop the nest, keeping her eggs warm, the roc occasionally stood and stretched, throwing out a wingspan so large that it eclipsed the sun. At half a day from the mountain’s edge, the roc finally took notice of them and let out a shriek so loud and shrill that it made them wince.
“This seems the proper time to head south,” Hyun announced.
“She must be hungry, about ready to go on a hunt,” Takeo voiced a reply. “She fears we’ll head for her eggs if she leaves them unguarded. That’s our warning to leave.”
“Head for her eggs,” Hyun muttered and shook his head. “Those shells are probably thicker than a ship’s bulkheads. What harm could we possibly do?”
“Parents are beings unto themselves.” Takeo shrugged. “But yes, we head south, and hope when she leaves to find food, she’ll have long forgotten about us.”
They turned left and trudge through the dunes.
* * *
Savara was massive. It was almost three times the size of Juatwa alone, which also made it bigger than the Great Plains, the Forest of Angor, and Themiscyra combined. Only the frigid north—half as big—could rival Savara’s size, but that didn’t quite matter because most of The North was uninhabitable. Only a tiny fraction of The North’s bottom end, the part that connected to the sea, had any form of civilization on it.
By comparison, Savara was a world all its own, one of anarchy. Its sheer size was one of the reasons it had never been conquered after its initial downfall ages ago. There was far too much ground to cover and too many tiny towns, barely scratching a living, that could never support an army. What Jabbar had done was so remarkable that it was little wonder his death had the reaction that it did. Of course, warlords should be afraid of rakshasas, and of course, Lady Xuan would want two under her command. If any rakshasa were capable of one-tenth of what Jabbar had accomplished, that creature could crown itself supreme ruler after carving out a tiny little kingdom anywhere in the world.
What all this meant was that it took a full month of traveling due south before they reached the famed pyramid that the sphinx had told them about. That meant a full month of dodging warlords, bandits, and creatures with more appetite than sense.
They had help here, though. Another thing that made Savara so difficult to conquer was its lack of things to conquer. Emily had thought the Great Plains was lonely with its long stretches of nothing but rolling hills covered in yellow grass, but she’d soon discovered that only The North dared rival the Great Desert for title of Most Desolate Landscape. Savara was an oven. Moisture was more precious than gold. Food did not grow readily on trees, providing a boundless supply of sustenance. Between each and every stable village were days and days of travel across nothing but sand dune after sand dune, with the occasional oasis or abandoned temple dotting the landscape and covered in deadly creatures hungry for an easy meal. All this meant that only exceptional warlords were capable of conquering anything more than one or two towns in their brief lifetimes.
