Relics of the Desert Tomb Page 15
“Sounds good.”
“Jamal. Before we do this, I have to tell you—”
“No. Don’t say it,” he said. “In the stories, that’s always the start of someone’s last words.” He glanced down into her blue eyes. “Let’s say things that aren’t our last words.”
“Okay.”
“I think you’re incredible,” he said. “Do you think I’m incredible?”
“Yes,” she said. “The bravest, most glorious man I’ve ever met.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“From one incredible person to another,” Jamal said, “let me give you some advice.”
“Okay.”
“Whatever you do, don’t look down.”
A screaming monster hurtled past their heads, and yet Sygne grinned at him. “I was just about to tell you to not look up.”
Jamal closed his eyes. “Ready?”
Sygne squeezed him tightly, and Jamal would have had a hard time breathing, except he was already holding his breath.
“Go!”
18 – Eulogy
At the advanced age of forty-one, the Widow Brunthe had nearly given up on the idea of finding love again.
She was already a bit of a pariah among the villagers of Cynop. She was of Northerner stock, and her fellow peasants looked upon her pale skin and her wildfire hair with wary, unwelcoming eyes. Speaking of eyes, Brunthe’s were inflamed and rheumy. Her spine bent strangely at the top. Hard labor had permanently swollen her knuckles, and wine had cracked open capillaries all along her nose.
She had expected to spend the rest of her days as a part-time laborer and a part-time drunk. And she was mostly fine with that.
Then the brokenhearted man rode out of the desert, trailing a nomad’s fortune of six camels with him.
The younger peasants had rushed through the olive groves to meet him. They helped the man hobble off of his dromedary, and he was already well into his tale of woe by the time the Widow Brunthe was close enough to hear.
He sobbed about two dead heroes who had led him fearlessly through the Cursed Quarter of the deadly Tawr Desert. The heroes were named Sygne and Jamal. Jamal was called the Singing Swordsman—with an ear for melody that was as dangerous as his blade. Sygne was the ‘Mother of Invention.’ She had been bold and smart enough to humiliate a goddess. The Cynopis gasped at this. But then the brokenhearted man clarified that the goddess was Issulthraqi, and the Cynopis applauded. He had his audience enraptured as he described how Jamal and Sygne had defeated demonic assassins and scorpion-men and zombies. Ohbo explained that he had been with them all along the way.
“Then you must be a hero too!” A pretty girl said.
“No. I am not a hero,” the brokenhearted man said. “Jamal told me this often.”
With a tear rolling down his cheek, the man concluded his tale. In the end Sygne and Jamal hadn’t been able to escape the full furies of Hell. Still, they had been brave right up to their last breaths. Instead of giving themselves over to their enemies, they had leaped into the depths of the Slash, adding their lifeblood to the Bedotan River.
When he was done, the brokenhearted man collapsed into a heap on the ground. Brunthe worked her way through the murmuring crowd and bent close to him.
He was blubbering into his hands and repeating, “She was… She was….” The Widow Brunthe touched his arm, and the brokenhearted man saw her. A look of awe slowly dawned on his face, and he completed his thought. “…the most beautiful woman in the world.”
She asked, “Are you talking about me?”
The man slowly nodded, and the murmurs among the Cynopis grew louder.
Would wonders never cease?
***
On the far side of the olive grove, Sygne and Jamal watched this scene between the mournful cameleer and the redheaded serf. They both wore hoods to conceal their faces.
Sygne said, “What’s Ohbo doing? It almost looks like he’s proposing to that woman.”
Jamal said, “I think he is.”
“She’s…”
“Redheaded like you,” Jamal noted.
“But I’m not… I don’t look… That old. Do I?”
Jamal squinted. “I have to say—I was always a little worried that maybe Bliss had cast some sinister love spell over Ohbo. Now I see he just has odd tastes.”
Sygne punched Jamal’s shoulder.
“All right. All right.” He chuckled. “I already told you you’re incredible. What more do you want from me?”
Sygne cocked her head and watched the redhead as she helped the cameleer limp to his feet. “Well, I’m happy for him,” she said. “Maybe he will be happy here. And safe.”
“I agree.” Jamal turned away from the grove. He beckoned for Sygne to follow. “He’ll be even safer when we’re far away from him.”
“Do you really think Bliss is still trying to track us?”
Jamal eyed the sky. “I don’t know. The fury-storm broke apart pretty quickly after we landed in the canyon. They certainly seemed to think we were dead. Ohbo thinks we’re dead. Maybe the ruse will last. At least until we’re in Albatherra.”
Sygne bounded past Jamal. “We’re so close! Just two weeks of walking and then we can present our evidence to the Mentors. We’ll warn them about the Threefold Key!”
Jamal laughed again. “You are my kind of traveling companion. You know that?”
“Really? Thanks.”
He seemed to turn wistful for a moment. “After all the troubles we’ve had, I want to thank you for never giving up on me.”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
“Are you still having dreams about Nemeah and me? Have you seen how it ends?”
“Your old comrade Kalil found you. And Nemeah decided to return to Gjuir-Khib.”
Jamal nodded. “That’s what happened. After a long time—years—I learned enough to know I couldn’t blame her. You mentioned seeing the aviary at Gjuir-Khib?”
“Yes.” Sygne tapped her temple. “I saw it.”
“The aviary doesn’t have nets or cages to keep the birds in place. Do you know why?”
Sygne didn’t have to think long before giving her answer. “Because even though the birds are captives, there’s nowhere else in the world that they could go that would be more comfortable.”
“That’s right,” Jamal said. “As it turns out, the same thing holds true for royal ladies.”
For a while they walked in silence. Sygne felt like she had to say something. “I suppose we all have our cages then.” She hated herself immediately; it was the sort of trite thing that Nemeah might have said.
But Jamal seemed to appreciate it. “It’s true.”
She asked, “And you still haven’t had any dreams about me?”
Jamal’s face bunched. “I don’t think so. Or if I did, then they must have been not worth recollecting when I woke up.”
Sygne groaned. “You know, despite what you think, my life was not boring before I met you.”
Jamal winked. “But you have to admit—your life is way more exciting now.”
He offered his hand, and Sygne took it.
They continued chatting as they walked, hand-in-hand, and their laughter could be heard from quite a distance away, until their figures had faded behind the crest of the horizon’s last hill.
Epilogue
It was a quiet night at the inn. Two drunks were passed out in a corner of the inn’s open-air tavern, but Urah had decided to leave them there. They would be gone by the morning. He was just about to blow out the last lamp on the bar, when his front door creaked open.
“Oh,” Urah said. “Hello, Ardhian. Is the room not to your liking?”
“The room is fine,” the man strode to the center of the saloon. “And yet I couldn’t fall asleep.”
Despite the late hour, the traveler wore a hood to shade his face. Urah found this profoundly troubling, but he was u
sed to dealing with suspicious characters in his line of work. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, I can sell you one glass of mead. Perhaps that will help to speed you off to slumber. But just one, mind you. I need to speed off to slumber myself.”
Urah slung a mug to the traveler, and he regarded it distastefully. The Ardhian asked, “You’re a Northerner aren’t you?”
“What gave me away?” Urah pointed to his beard, which was the color of flame. His ruddy checks were speckled with dark freckles.
The traveler continued, “And you have a lot of Northern immigrants settling in this area…”
“Yes,” the innkeeper drew out the word warily.
“Then can you tell me—have you ever heard anyone speak of a tall, redheaded woman named Nyfinein? I believe—”
“Nyfinein?” Urah interrupted. “The Crimson Consort? Of course I know of her.” He stepped away from the stranger and glanced to the door. “Is she in Cynop? Where have you seen her?”
“No,” the Ardhian said. He swept off his hood and blinked at Urah’s fearful reaction. “I haven’t seen her… In real life. But I keep seeing her in dreams.”
“You saw her in dreams? I’d say that might be worse.” Urah coughed. “For you at least.”
“So, this Nyfinein… Is she as dangerous as she seems?”
“Yes. And I’d ask that you not speak of her again.” The innkeeper checked his surroundings. “A witch as powerful as that… She can probably hear her name spoken from hundreds of leagues away.”
“Let me ask you one more question. I have a friend who is of Northern descent. In my dreams, this witch is watching her…”
“Then I’d say your friend might be in grave trouble.”
The Ardhian tipped his mug and finished his mead in one long draught. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“It might be even worse than that,” he said. “My friend… I’m pretty sure that she’s Nyfinein’s daughter.”
From the Author
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this book (and even if you didn’t), I would love to hear your feedback. Please consider reviewing RELICS OF THE DESERT TOMB at the site where you purchased it. Every review helps the book connect to more readers who might enjoy it—and every opinion is welcome! Also, you can contact me at jderrywriter@gmail.com.
And there are more reads to come! Check out my site http://www.james-derry.com for my progress on upcoming releases, and my random ramblings on writing, reading, pop-culture, and more. And connect with me on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/derrywriter) or Twitter (https://twitter.com/derrywriter).
Copyright © 2019 James Derry
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is entirely coincidental.
For more about this author, visit James-Derry.com
Table of Contents
Map
Prologue
1 – The Fleshpots of Sarthoon
2 – Among Savages
3 – An Arrival
4 – Death in the Dark
5 – A Slip of the Mind
6 – A Departure
7 – Quandary at Skeleton Head Mountain
8 – The Dragon Blood Tree
9 – Ambush at the Bazaar
10 – Awakenings
11 – Floating in Limbo
12 – The Abyss Gazes Also
13 – Firearm
14 – Fuel to the Fire
15 – A to Z
16 – The Passage
17 – Death is the Only Escape
18 – Eulogy
Epilogue
From the Author