Chapter 2: The Shadows of War

Previously in Chapter 1: Since his escape from the Al-Mahid forces in the Jaza Border Dispute and his five years in hiding, Dalan has become a renowned treasure hunter in both Centra and Al-Mahid. He now works with the Saif Border Mercenaries, a group of fighters for hire run by a man named Murad Ibrahim. Dalan, along with the Border Mercenaries, took a job to exterminate the Blatta, large insects that had taken up residence in the Centran waterworks. Upon their extermination and the collection of their payment, Dalan and the other mercenaries return to Al-Mahid.

--

Two forces, the people and the state
Balance and counterbalance
The people grant the state power, that it may protect them
The state grants the people comfort, that it may maintain this power
Should the people or the state seize more than it is due
From its own state or a state neighboring,
The balance shall be disrupted,
Alas, as the sun sets on the land, nature will restore the balance through conflict
And upon the cities below
Shall be cast the shadows of war


Excerpt from A Treatise On Warfare by Elvaan Tactician and Councilman Redwin Selm’k

Ch2: The Shadows of War

“Nana, how have you been?” Dalan asked as he walked up to a small cabana pitched on the sandy stone path which stood a short distance from the crashing waves of the seashore. A diminutive old Mora lady, matted gray hair fluttering in the sea breeze, hobbled up to Dalan and threw her arms around his chest. Dalan hugged the old lady heartily. She stepped back and looked at Dalan with stern approbation in her eyes.
“You don’t come to visit old Nana anymore. Do you think that you are too good for the woman that raised you? I know that you are famous and all, but you have to know where you came from,” she said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Dalan who smiled.
“Of course not!” he replied. “Just been a little busy. This place is a little out of the way,” Dalan said, remembering the half day’s camel ride that he had made through the desert just to make it here. Porters association really needs to set up shop here Dalan thought, but he knew that since this seaport was privately owned by Murad, it was highly unlikely. they only set up in cities recognized as part of a political body... and then, only the capital cities at that. Dalan remembered. The members of the Porters Association, a group of Elvaan who were healing magick affine, studied magicks which allowed them to open a direct connection between two points in space. Aside from the Church of Archos, they were the only organization in which the art of ‘porting’ was widely taught. The only constraint on this ability was that of memory and clairvoyance. A porter had to have been to the spot to which they wished to teleport their clients and must also be able to recall the surroundings accurately in his minds eye in order to open a port to the desired position. Likewise, they had to be able to use magicks to ‘feel’ the presence of other beings so that one would not be ported into another. The more traveled members of the association usually brought the newer members to the various cities that they would be porting people to, so that they could memorize landmarks and features of the city. If all of this was not done properly, the client could end up in the wrong city, or even worse, joined with another person or object which, of course, led to subsequent death and was very undesirable. Unlike the members of the Church of Archos, the main religious body of Centra whose members also practiced the art of porting, the Elvaan could detect the presence or absence of life forms and thus, were well trained to avoid the phenomenon of ‘joining’. Not that the Porters Association didn’t have the kind of money to compensate the affected families for their losses anyway.
“You work with the Border Mercenaries, though. They are set up in that old lighthouse on the shore. They try to keep it a secret, but everyone around here knows,” Nana said, gesturing at a tall, weather beaten lighthouse on the far shore of the beach.
“Yeah, but I usually stay in the city. Our leader, Guilder Ibrahim, has a messenger leave a note at my inn room if he needs anything. Besides, most of the mercenaries live in that lighthouse. I doubt they would come to headquarters often if they lived in the city,” Dalan replied.
“So they wouldn’t,” she relented. “I assume that you have stayed out of trouble.”
“Of course, Nana. I still remember the promise I made twenty one years ago. Remember? I said I’d make an honest living as soon as I got the chance,”
“As soon as you got the chance,” the elderly lady repeated, her wrinkled face creasing into a smile. “Back then, I thought those were just the words of a young thief trying to get a nagging lady off of his back.”
“Well you did feed us, my friends and I. You took care of us when no one else would. I still don’t understand why you cared for us. We were all just street urchins, rogues and thieves,” Dalan mused.
“No one is responsible for the situation they are born into, Dalan. Perhaps you will realize that when you get older. When I saw you, Jawar and Ehud I saw three kids who were never given a chance to be good. I wanted to be that chance and I’d like to think that Sharah smiles upon me for that,” she replied.
“What of Jawar and Ehud?” Dalan asked. Nana looked down sadly.
“I… I haven’t heard,” she admitted. “They fought in the Jaza border dispute like you. They were at The Last Stand.” No. Dalan thought as he recalled what he had heard about the final and most terrible confrontation with the Jazair. Over ten thousand men had fought under the Akhmet colors in that battle. Only a few over a hundred returned. I’m sorry,” Dalan said, feeling a pang of regret at the loss of his childhood friends.
“They are with Sharah now. I pray that they find peace in the afterlife,” Nana said, sniffing. “At any rate, I don’t mean to keep you. You probably have something that Guilder Ibrahim needs you to attend to if you are here,” she said, walking back to her cabana. She returned with a skin of liquid which she tossed to Dalan.
“It’s been a while since you have had some of my famous melon juice. Hopefully this will encourage you to return sooner,” Nana said. Dalan rummaged in his pocket for his change bag. “Don’t insult an old woman,” she said, smiling. Dalan dropped the bag back in his pocket and hugged the lady again.
“Thanks again, Nana. For everything.” Dalan turned and smiled at her one last time before he began to walk toward the lighthouse.

. . .

Dalan wiped his brow. The sun had begun to descend, but it was still midday and sweltering desert heat washed over him in waves. He began to walk closer to the shore and let the waves lap at his legs. He almost considered swimming out into the sea to cool off, but he knew that this seaport was a haven for criminals and thieves who were willing to steal the clothes right off your back. All the easier if they were neatly stacked on the beach while their owner took a dip in the water. Almost there. He thought as he looked up at the crumbling sandstone lighthouse further down the beach. He was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the sounds of soft quiet footsteps close behind him. “Don’t move,” a female voice whispered in Dalan’s ear. He was far away from the market which he had just left and there were no other travelers around aside from him and his unknown assailant. “You’re that famous treasure hunter, aren’t you?” the voice said. He felt the point of a blade jabbing against his side. “I’m sure you have a lot of gold for the taking. Drop your weapons. Any sudden moves and you are dead.” Dalan smiled. She would never do it. He thought.
“Cut it out, Gil,” he said, whirling around, knife in hand. In front of him stood a fair-skinned tall slender woman, her brow glistening in the desert heat. She wiped her windswept blond hair out of her face before shrugging. “The voice,” Dalan stated as he sheathed his knife, sticking it back into his belt. “No Centran in their right mind would become a thief in Al-Mahid. Quite easy to spot, I would think. Plus, look at the way you are dressed. The tight white shirt, the khakis. No woman here, Al-Mahidi, Mora or Roma, would ever dress like that and few would carry a sword.”
“Duly noted,” Gil replied, grinning. They began to walk together toward the lighthouse.
“You haven’t hired me for a hunt in a year. Tired of having me around?” Dalan asked playfully.
“Well, you do get in the way sometimes,” Gil replied.
“Ouch.”
“And as for your last hunt, I made good use of the adamantium you got out of that orc inhabited mine for me,” She said, pulling a sword out of a sheath at her side. Its wavy snake-like blade came to a sharp point at the end. The metal of the blade was a much lighter silver color than any blade Dalan had ever seen.
“I’m assuming that you crafted it yourself,” Dalan said, scrutinizing the blade.
“Of course. There is no blacksmith in all of Centra who can rival my blades,” She said dismissively. "I call it the Sybylltongue. After the Al-Mahidi desert serpants." She tossed the sword to Dalan, who caught it in his left hand. Incredibly light. Dalan thought. He flicked the side of the blade. Rigid as well, but not brittle in the least.
“Nice sword,” He said, handing it back to Gil who sheathed it and nodded.
“My best work so far. Even better than your blade,” she said.
“You mean to tell me,” Dalan replied, pointing an accusatory finger. “That I paid fifteen thousand gold for your third best sword? Not to mention that mine isn’t even comparable to this new work of art,”
“Well, it wouldn’t make sense for a client to have a better sword than me, now would it?”
“What are you here for anyway?” Dalan asked. “Big business deal?”
“Oh, just some information,” Gil’s expression suddenly became gloomy.
“Hah! Sometimes I think that you are more of a street ear than a businesswoman,” Dalan laughed.
“Who said it wasn’t business?” Gil retorted. “Sometimes information is the most important commodity. If you control information, you control the battlefield.”
“Battlefield?” Dalan asked, baffled.
“Yes,” Gil replied. “I’ve heard from reliable sources that the Centran Empire is gathering its army for an attack. The Chivalry, the Patriarch’s Knights, every man and woman with a sword that the king and the lords can muster.”
“What?” Dalan said incredulously. “The Centrans haven’t mobilized a conquering force since the capture of port Albert from the Yin-Sung eighty years ago! What is the target? Do they plan to move west through the neighboring forests and retake Gabradia?”
“No, that would be foolhardy. They would probably lose the same way that they did when Gabradia decided to secede from the Empire a hundred years ago. The magi of Gabradia would inflict heavy casualties on any invasion force. Their forces are massing in Southern Centra, at the border between the Centran Empire and Al-Mahid. The target is Al-Mahid,” Gil stated. The words hit Dalan like a hammer.
“Why would they want Al-Mahid?” he asked, bewildered.
“I don’t know, really,” Gil replied. “Perhaps as a staging ground. If they can take it, they are in a favorable tactical position against the Yin-Sung to the east, who have resource rich land. Since their land would be between the conquered Akhmet and Port Albert, which they already took from the Yin-Sung, they would be at a vast strategic disadvantage should a battle break out. Also, if the Centrans wished, they could move into Jazair territory.”
“Which would be crazy. I am sure you have heard about the man in the green robes who claimed he was their leader. He supposedly fought battalions of men at once. It would be quite senseless to go up against them,” Dalan replied.
“I still don’t believe those legends any more than when you told me about their shamans ten years ago. Also, I’m not so sure about the inferiority of the Centran forces,” Gil stated. “Al-Mahid may have well-trained guerilla fighters, but the organization of the Centran forces is unparalleled. At any rate, the question isn’t whether they can invade the Jaza’ir or not. They are most definitely moving south into the Al-Mahidi deserts and attacking Akhmet within a matter of days,”
“Is this a reaction? It seems as though Al-Mahid has a lot more to gain by invading Centra than the other way around,”
“No. The politics aren’t right. The king was urging the lords to prepare men for an offensive. If it were a reaction, there wouldn’t need to be any urging at all. Patriarch Arcturus the fifth, leader of the Church of Archos in Centra, also supports the war, which makes it seem almost as if it’s a crusade of some sort.” Gil replied. “And another thing. Around the same time I got this information, the leader of the magician’s guild went missing.”
“Guilder Loross’i? The half elf?” Dalan asked.
“Yes. There is suspicion that he is somehow involved in the war preparations,” Gil said.
“Do you think he is helping the Centrans?” Dalan asked.
“There are so many questions about his disappearance. He hasn’t been seen in Al-Mahid or Centra since. You would think that if the Centrans hired him for something, someone in the court would know about him,” Gil said. Dalan knew that it was likely that if a member of the court knew something, Gil knew someone who could tell her what was going on.
“I have to tell Murad, then,” Dalan said urgently.
“Tell Murad what?” A voice came from behind the two. Dalan started, but Gil was perfectly calm.
“Guilder Ibrahim? Eavesdropping on us for the past few minutes, I presume?” Gil said, turning around and extending a hand.
“High Guilder Regalia,” Murad said, taking her hand in both of his. “Dalan,” he nodded to Dalan before turning back to Gil. “And I prefer the term ‘listening’” Murad said, smiling. Dalan was astonished. How could he have been behind us all this time and even I didn’t hear him? I still have a lot to learn from that guy. He thought. “Years of covert reconnaisance work, Dalan." Murad said, seeming to anticipate Dalan's thoughts. "From the sound of it, we have a lot to discuss. The two of us will continue this in my office.” Murad continued, walking to the door of the old lighthouse.

. . .

“I never thought we would be at war again so soon,” Dalan said as he, Murad, Lourrdes and Mustafa walked down the long raised street that lead to the Dey’s palace.
“What High Guilder Regalia told me yesterday is well corroborated evidence, judging by her sources,”
“Who are they?” Dalan asked, but Murad continued.
“Those Centran bastards. Too power hungry for their own good,” Murad said, gritting his teeth. As they approached the extravagant palace, adorned with arches on either side of the main building, the massive bronze dome of the roof loomed over them, casting a dark shadow over the sandy stone road. Two guards stood in front of the large arched metal doors.
“Guilder Ibrahim? Right this way.” One of them said, pushing the doors open, which caused a great creaking roar. Murad, Lourrdes and Mustafa walked in and Dalan followed. He was stunned by a blast of cool air from the inside room. Red day shades were pulled over the windows and the sunlight which shone through them cast a dim reddish tint upon the room, which was complimented by small lanterns with single candles resting in them. Art from all over the region adorned the walls. Dalan noticed paintings from Centra, carvings from all over Al-Mahid and Sung sculpture, among others that he couldn’t quite identify. A man in glittering white robes, adorned with gold and red gemstones and a red turban sat at the head of a long table in the far left corner of the room. The guards led the men to the other end of the table and signaled for them to sit. A woman, her face covered by a facial wrap, stood in the corner next to the well dressed man. Only her brown eyes, lowered in a submissive glance, could be seen.
“Sit down,” The well adorned man said. “Would you like anything to drink? Eat? Seyah will get it for you,” he gestured at the woman standing near him, who made no indication that she had heard the words that he said.
“No thank you, I’m going to make this quick,” Murad said, pulling the chair back, sinking into the plush red cushion. He put his feet on the marble table and leaned back. The guards started.
“Take your feet off the table. You disrespect your Dey!” One of them said, but the Dey waved them away.
“Get back to your posts,” He said spitefully as he waved them away.
“Ye-yes sir!” The guard said, hurrying out of the room alongside his comrade.
“No disrespect intended, your godliness,” Murad said, although Dalan could hear a hint of mockery in his voice. Lourrdes and Mustafa looked at each other and smiled. “I have some information on a potential Centran invasion in our very near future.” The Dey looked up at Murad and smiled.
“Anything else?” He said haughtily.
“Anything else?” Murad repeated incredulously. “No, aside from the fact that your country is about to be invaded by the most powerful offensive force in all of Hume territory, I see no problems. I paid a premium for this information, you know. It isn't something to take lightly,” The Dey stood up and began to pace.
“Sharah, our god, revealed this to me a few days ago. I had a vision of pale-faced men riding in and attacking Akhmet in the broad daylight. I saw our forces rising up to meet them and slaughtering them where they stood.” What the hell is with this guy? Dalan thought as he looked at the Dey as if he were crazy. Is he serious? “Guilder Bah’rati!” The Dey called. A man stepped out of the shadows.
“Yes, your godliness,” He said. Purple robes? Black turban? Guild of the Howling Blade. An assassin. Dalan thought, starting in fear. The man laughed bitterly.
“Don’t worry ‘Old Dal’” Bah’rati said, smirking. “The Dey was kind enough to lift the bounty on your head. If not, you wouldn’t have made it through the palace doors alive,” Dalan looked at Murad, who nodded, trying to force a smile amidst the crude company. So those were the conditions of the meeting. Murad demanded that my bounty be ‘forgotten’ before he would even consider having an audience. Dalan smiled at the amount of power that the guilders had, even over the rulers of countries. Well, without the Howling Blades and the Border Mercenaries, Al-Mahid wouldn’t have much of a military after all. Dalan looked at Murad with newfound respect.
“I was going to summon you both here to discuss plans for an invasion of Centra. A few weeks ago, I had another vision, the month before that of the attempted Centran invasion. Our forces swept into Centra,” the Dey made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “We captured their capital, and then we moved to Gabradia, then to the lands of the Yin-Sung. A Hume empire ruled by the Mora!” He cackled gleefully. Lourrdes winced and looked as if he wanted to add a second decapitation to his murder record. “Perhaps we would have enough military might to repay the Jazair for what they had done.” The Dey said, a look of excited hunger on his face. Dalan refrained from reminding the Dey that it was Al-Mahid who invaded Jazair land. “Taking this as a message from Sharah, my advisor and I began to plan for a full scale assault on Centra. But my vision of a potential invasion of our country and your message today called for a change of plans.”
“First of all, why didn’t you contact me for the attack plans,” Murad said, biting back his anger. “Second, are you sure you can depend on these visions?”
“Have faith in Sharah, Murad. Sometimes I have to wonder, do you believe? I know you are a realist, but don’t fall into the clutches of sin,” The Dey said, gesturing with his arms.
“I will be careful, your godliness,” Murad relented.
“Anyway, I was planning this with the Guild of the Howling Blades first. Sabotaging Centran forces from behind the lines was the most important element. Your men would provide the main fighting force. But the planning never got to that stage.” The Dey said. Bah’rati nodded in affirmation. Dalan, however, wasn’t listening. So from what Gil and the Dey said, both armies were mobilizing an attack force at the same time? That doesn’t make sense. How did Al-Mahid not know until now? Does Centra know that Al-Mahid is aware of their plans?
“So what do you want us to do?” Murad asked the Dey.
“Defend your country, fight for your people,” The Dey replied, as if Murad’s duty was self evident.
“And our payment?” Murad asked.
“You and your men will be well paid. Forty two thousand gold a month for each. That is twice as much as other mercenaries of similar caliber will be given.”
“I will stay in the city then, until I am needed,” Murad said.
“Yes. I have already told the Innkeeper at the Akhmet Royal to prepare a suite for you. I will send for you when you are needed. That is all,” The Dey said, waving a hand dismissively. Bah’rati bowed and left the room. Murad stood to bow and signaled Dalan, Lourrdes and Mustafa to do the same. Only for you, Murad. Dalan thought as he bowed to the Dey. With that, he turned and followed Murad, Lourrdes and Mustafa out of the Dey’s palace into the hot desert sun.

. . .

“So that is the Dey?” Dalan spouted angrily. “Some company you guys keep,”
“Oi, calm down, Dal,” Lourrdes said. “How many times do you think I have to sit through his ‘the age of Al-Mahid is coming’ speeches? And I’m Centran!”
“The politics of Al-Mahid have been like this for perhaps a century or two.” Murad explained. “The Dey is the supreme ruler of the country, only has to answer to himself. But Al-Mahid has used predominantly mercenary forces for their military. Our government is the richest in funds, so it probably figures that it can hire the best to work for them instead of maintaining a paltry armed forces consisting of our peasants. We, the Border Mercenaries, and the Guild of the Howling Blade are the best there are to hire, so there you go. Without us, our country’s military position is dramatically weakened. I have to associate with the Dey. For the protection of my country and,” Murad smiled roguishly. “The power it affords me,”
“Lourrdes, what are you going to do if he decides to invade Centra?” Dalan asked. “Your wife and your daughter Elizabeth will be in danger. I don’t think that the Dey will treat Centran citizens kindly if this Akhmet Empire pipe dream becomes a reality,” Dalan replied. Lourrdes looked up at Dalan sadly.
“I din’t come ‘ere to fight for this country. I came ‘ere ‘cos Murad offered me a place to stay when my country sentenced me to death. If it comes ter war between Centra and Al-Mahid, I’ll do the reasonable thing. I’ll protect my family,”
“Not from me,” Murad said.
“Hmm?” Lourrdes replied looking up.
“I said not from me. The Jaza Border Dispute was the last time that the Saif Border Mercenaries fight a war of occupation. Things have changed since I’ve taken over. The fact of the matter is that I don’t care about the Dey.” Murad said calmly. “He can take his divine inspiration and shove it. I just want to make sure the people of this country are safe. If he calls upon me to help him with plans of Centran occupation, I’d have to refuse.” Lourrdes smiled gratefully, but said nothing. and if he refused Dalan wondered, realizing the danger of Murad's statement would the Dey simply replace him with someone more subservient?
“Where are you headed, Dal?” Murad asked Dalan.
“Akhmet Royal Inn. Same as you three, I assume,” Dalan responded.
“Well do they have good food there?” Murad asked.
“Good enough to satisfy a certain hungry Mora,” Dalan replied, putting his hand on his stomach.
“Let’s eat then!” Lourrdes said. “I’m starving!” Mustafa nodded in agreement as the company walked down the dusty road.