“Honour the Gods
*Honour your Tribe.
*Honour your Family.
*Honour your Blade.
*Honour Yourself.”
*Kaleesh Warrior’s Creed.*
Bo Roll had lived in the wetlands of Cezith for all his life. He never had much ambition beyond the simple life of a ferryman. Transporting people from one of the floating towns to the other. And why should he? Cezith as a world is so far away remove from the rest of the galaxy that it had never been involved in any of the major conflicts that seems to infect it of late. No, Bo Roll enjoys his simple, peaceful life as a ferrymen.
So why did he agreed to ferry the strange bone mask wearing alien during slithar mating season.
Bo Roll watched in horror as his small ferryboat became a sea of black scales, sharp claws and monstrous teeth. The only thing that was keeping him safe was the windows and lock door of his bridge. But he knew that would only keep them at bay for so long. Thankfully they seem more interested in the alien then him. Who out of some madness he prays he’ll never know, remain outside to face the hungry horde.
He could see him outside. Standing at the centre of the boat with his back to bridge. Armed with nothing more than a harpoon and a wicked looking knife. Surrounded by the slither.
It was insane. Bo Roll had seen those things tear apart swamp whales in a matter of minutes. There was no way that the alien should be able to survive this. And yet by some miracle he was. The slithar had been swarming onto the boat for almost half an hour and the alien had somehow manage to hold them off throughout that entire time.
To Bo Roll it was both an amazing and unbelievable sight watching the alien fight. He never remains still. Always striking out with the harpoon at the slithar at a distance, while those who had manage to get too close were cut down by the knife. His robes lay in pieces on the ferry’s deck, his body was covered in the black, inky blood of the slithar but he had also gains cuts and scars of his own throughout the battle. If they caused him pain, he doesn’t show it.
He roars in battle lust as one of the slithar leaps above his fellows, it’s mouth wide to sink it’s blade like teeth into Bo Roll’s savour’s crimson throat. With speed faster than any being that size should have been able to move the alien stab out with the harpoon, impaling the beast in mid-flight. Another one sought to attack him from behind, plaining to take him while he was distracted but it did not fare any better than his counterpart. Somehow sensing the one at his back the alien turns around just enough to slam his knife into the skull of the creeping slithar.
This was how the battle been going since it started. Everytime the slithar thought they had managed to slip underneath the alien’s guard they were met with quick, brutal ends. Bo Roll knew not what this being was or why he was so desperate to get to the other town despite the danger. He just prays he doesn’t die.
Because once he falls and the slithar are done chewing on his bones. He will be next.
##############################################################################
“Koska Kalee!” Xaamtaemash roars as he lashed out with the harpoon. Killing another of the strange water creatures attacking the boat. They were unlike anything that were on Kalee. The were like fish but with arms and legs and able to breath air. Their mouths were long and would pull backwards when they open to show a jaw full of dagger like teeth. Again, he is reminded how different the worlds beyond his own are.
He had been fighting for some time now. How long he could not say. Though he could feel his muscle begin to protest with each attack. He was growing slower, the fish things are closing in, growing bolder with their attacks. They could smell blood.
“Koska Kalee!” He shouted again. Drawing upon the gift the Gods had given him to strengthen his body, slowing his breathing and give power to his limbs. He moved like lighting and strikes like thunder. The creatures took a cautious step back as another seven of their own were killed by his attacks. The boat’s deck becoming slippery with more and more with each fish beast slain.
“Koska Kalee!” He shouted as he strikes out. “Koska Kalee!”
“Koska Kalee!”
##############################################################################
“Koska Kalee!” Came the cry of the warriors below. Xaamtaemash stood on the cliffs of the Jeturua Mountains along with his other brothers and sisters watching the battle taking place below. The khans of the eastern plans had sought to invade the chieftains of the western jungles once again. They would do this once every fourth or sixth generations. The khans would slaughter each other until one of their numbers would become so powerful that the eastern tribes would flock to their banner with promises of new lands and plunder. When this happens, they would attempt to cross the Mountains where they would find the Tyl tribe waiting.
However, this battle was different from the one’s Xaamtaemash had witness before. There were no priests to watch over it, no formal agreement of what number of warriors are to be brought or what lands would be won or lost.
No this was what the kaleesh called the Losttikka Battiks.
A war without laws.
It was rare for such a war to be wage. War was as common to Kalee as water is to the sea. However, they were always conducted as according to laws place down by the priests of the temples. As without them the kaleesh would simply continuously slaughter each other with out any sense of honour or restraint. They could very well end up destroying themselves in such a way and if the kaleesh die where would new gods be born from.
Xaamtaemash watches as the spearmen line themselves up. As the archers and slingers test their weapons and count their ammunitions. As the swordsmen polish their blade and whispers soft prays to the war and death gods who no doubt watches over them this day. His eyes scan the scene until he spotted the one, he had been looking for. Standing out from the rest of the warriors was his father Xarakatta Jal Tyl.
He was a monster of a kaleesh. As tall as the mountains, stronger than ten warriors and a master of war in all of it’s forms. The Herald of Storms was but one of many honour names that had been given to him by friend and foe. The other names he had earn for himself were said to take days to list off. He walks among his troops, speaking to them, sharing laughs or commands. It did not matter if they were of Tyl, Runs, Skyysh or Suth. Today there were all his warriors. Today they were all brothers.
“Never seen so many warriors before.” One of his brothers say.
“Father must have summoned every tribe under his banner.” Another said.
“Is there enough room for them though? That pass is very tight. If there are too many fighting in there won’t be any room to swing a sword.”
“Father knows what he is doing.” Xaamtaemash said turning to face his siblings. They were all taller than him, even those who were younger. A reminder of his place as the runt of the family. “He won’t let them get away with murdering mother.”
They all become quiet then. It was the death of Xaamtaemash mother that had started this war without laws. The eastern khan’s leader had sought to remove the Jeturua Mountain’s protector by having him assassinated. A despicable act even among the most hated of enemies and reason enough to wage a Losttikka Battiks. However, it was Xaamtaemash’s mother he had fallen to their blades as she sought to defend her husband and chieftain.
Death was another common thing on Kalee, but it didn’t make the pain hurt less.
“You really think that is why Father is doing this?”
Xaamtaemash and the others all turns to the oldest brother. Naankolon was much like their father. Tall, strong and intelligent in the art of war and killing. He was fourteen summers old. His mask already marked by symbols of slaying enemy warriors and the hunting of the dangerous beasts that stalks the jungles below.
He was everything that Xaamtaemash wasn’t but wish to be.
“What do you mean by that?” He asks accusingly.
Naankolon sighs in a way that annoys Xaamtaemash. “I mean brother. That to think that our father is doing this to avenge your mother is foolish. This isn’t about your mother brother. This is about making the eastern dogs understand what happens when you break the laws of war.”
“It can be both.”
“No.” Naankolon says with a certainty that made him sound so much like their father. “It cannot.”
He walks over to Xaamtaemash, his form towering over the smaller boy. “Xaamtaemash. Do you really think that your mother mattered that much to our Father?”
The question shook the child to his core. How could anyone ask such a question.
“Of course she did!” Xaamtaemash shouted. “She was important! She was his wife-
“She was our Father’s fourteenth wife. She was a woman who kept failing to sire a child for him until the day you were born.” Naankolon said his voice carried a coldness to it that inflame Xaamtaemash. “And look at you Xaamtaemash. You are seven summers old and yet you look barely half that age. While our younger brothers are able to run and climb the mountains to hunt crags lizards you can barely do so without wheezing like an old mumuu. You get sick easier than us, you can barely lift a sword and you cry at the smallest hardship.
Your mother failed in her duty to give Father a strong son. Taking that knife to her heart was the least she could have done for bringing you into this world and shaming our father so. He may not speak of it but it is clear to all how disappointed he is by you. So, no Xaamtaemash, he is not fighting this war in memory of your mother. When this is over, he will barely remember her.”
Xaamtaemash didn’t know how to reply to that. How could you reply to such cold words spoken from one of your own kin. His hands slowly closed into fists. Shock turns into anger and anger turns into rage. Without thinking, powered purely by the raw emotions of a child Xaamtaemash lashes out with a punch to his older brother.
His punch barely made it halfway before a much larger fist came crashing down and slams into his face. The world spun, he lost all sense of direction, then he hit the ground hard. Darkness came and went as he stares at the feet of Naankolon. Another set of feet joined him, and voices spoke.
“Was that truly necessary brother?”
“Yes.” Naankolon said as he turns away from the prone form of his younger brother. “His mother had always coddled him because of his weakness. Now with her gone he needs to understand where it is he stands within the tribe and family. He will either grow strong or be forgotten like his mother.”
##############################################################################
Xaamtaemash knelt in a pool of black, inky blood, his knife buried deep within the heart of the last of the fish creature that had been attacking the boat he’s traveling in. He was exhausted, wounded and bloody. The battle lasted longer than he had ever thought a battle could. He wondered if his father or brothers ever fought such a battle.
He looks up to find the boat littered in the broken bodies of the slain. How many did he kill? Did it even matter at this moment. As pain ran through his body like a wildfire. Slowly he stood up and limp his way to the bridge where the human was piloting the ferry. He barely made it to the door. When did his feet grow so heavy? Why does his vision falters as it did when Naankolon hit him?
The door to the bridge opens and the human stood at the entrance with a look of disbelief.
“You did it.” He said as if he himself didn’t believe what his own eyes had seen. “You fought off the slithar. I have never seen such a thing in all my life.”
Xaamtaemash went to say something, but it was hard to remember how to speak Basic when the world refuse to stop spinning.
“Are you okay there?” The human asks, sounding concern. “You don’t look so good.”
Again, Xaamtaemash went to say something but his tongue refuse to work as it should and the world spins faster. The last thing he sees is the ship’s deck coming to meet him.
##############################################################################
The moon was high in the night sky, it’s cool white glow covered the grass and trees that surrounded the great temple of Shrupak. From his bed Xaamtaemash could see the towering ziggurat standing proudly above the smaller buildings that borders it. It truly was a majestic sight for him to behold.
It was hard to think that it was built using the same blocks that were used in the First God’s palace. It was even harder to believe that the valley it lays in was once home to the first and only city to grace the world of Kalee.
And now here he is. Tomorrow he will begin to learn how to become a priest of the First God. How to harness the powers he had been gifted with and if the gods will it perhaps even become a god himself.
The journey to the valley from his home had taken three and a half weeks to complete. It would usually only taken two if one were to take a straight path, but the priests who had selected Xaamtaemash for training had needed to visited several other tribes around the mountains. They had found another three who possess the gift of the gods. Mavik they called it. An old, strange power that was originally stolen by the dreaded demons who once enslaved all of Kalee. Now the demons were gone, and it is the kaleesh who are now masters of this power.
The thought of tapping into it was both exciting and terrifying for the young child. He had only heard of it from the old stories and legends. In many of them the kaleesh who wielded the mavik did many great things, but they were also have said to be capable of truly evil things if they were to ever be consumed by it. Could Xaamtaemash truly be able to master this power that was said to dwell within him. Was he strong enough to resist the temptation of using it as the demons had done.
“Can’t sleep as well?” came a quiet voice.
Xaamtaemash turns suddenly. Fearing that one of priests in charge of the initiates had entered the room and had caught him being awake. To his relief and mild surprise, it was another initiate. He was not one of the children who had travel with him. This boy was from one of the other groups of traveling priests seeking for mavik gifted children to recruit.
Much like Xaamtaemash he was not old enough to have his own bone mask so his face was open to all to see. Flat noise, long pointed ears, chin task have grown in with the cheeks tasks only now slowly starting to appear. He was taller than him, but then most children were taller than Xaamtaemash.
“Um…yes sleep escape me this night.” Xaamtaemash says cautiously. That was something the priests are going to work on when they all start their training. Learning to trust kaleesh from other tribes.
“Me too.” The boy said as he climbs out of his cot and came to sit on Xaamtaemash’s own.
The act caught him so off guard that he didn’t know how to react at first. Should he allow it? Should he fight him off? Would he been seen as weak if he simply let him stay sitting there? The situation was made even stranger for him when the boy lifted both his hands in sign of greetings.
“Shai, I am Bimaax Jal Skel.”
Xaamtaemash slowly returns the gesture. “Shai, I am Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl.”
“Tyl? As in the Tyl of Jeturua Mountains?”
“You know of my tribe?”
“Of course!” Bimaax almost shouted. Making Xaam glance a panic look to the cloth curtain that separates the initiate’s room from the priest’s.
“Who haven’t heard of the great battle that the Tyl fought with the eastern khans. They say the Tyl warlord was able to kill so many of the khans warriors that he made a wall out of their bodies.” Bimaax says with the gleam in his eyes that follows all young kaleesh boys when talk of battle and bloodshed is shared.
“That’s only half true.” Xaamtaemash said while trying to encourage the excited boy to be quiet. “My father did indeed kill many of them, but he didn’t build a wall out of their bodies.”
Bimaax froze and the way he looked at Xaamtaemash made him feel very, very nervous.
“Your father is Xarakatta Jal Tyl?” He asks. His tone suddenly changing from excitement to one of relevance.
“Um…yes.”
“That’s amazing!” He almost shouted again. Causing a few of the other children to shush and glare at the two of them. “No wonder you are here then. I will have to admit, I was wondering why they brought one so young to train here. You must be destined for great things.”
“I would not say that.” Xaamtaemash said ignoring the remark of his supposed age. “I am not one who the Gods would be watching.”
This earns a chuckle out of Bimaax. It was, like most things with him, loud. “If that is true then why did they give you mavik?”
That was a good question. The Gods did not give such power away on a whim after all. But, the idea of him, The runt of the great Xarakatta was destine for anything but a life easily forgotten was difficult for him to see. He was nothing special. He was just Xaamtaemash. The runt.
“I cannot say.” Xaam finally says for lack of a better answer. “Perhaps the Gods made a mistake.”
Bimaax shook his head and for the first time since meeting him, his face became serious. “The Gods don’t make mistakes. They give us mavik for a reason and that reason is great. You see Xaamtaemash.”
Xaamteamash didn’t know what to say to that. But, it made him feel…good. Better he had felt since his mother had died. He smiled at the boy and bows his head to him.
“My thanks Bimaax Jal Skel.”
Bimaax smiles and waves off the thanks. “No need for full names. We are to be brothers now.”
“Very well. My thanks Bimaax.”
##############################################################################
Xaamtaemash opens his eyes and was surprised that he was no longer in the initiate’s dormitories. Instead, he was in a small room that seems to rock from one side to the other as if it was floating. There was someone standing before him. His back to him as he turns a wheel frantically while speaking in a togue that he could barely understand.
He wasn’t kaleesh. He was something else. A name float to his mind as he tries to make sense of the world he had awoken to. Human. That is what the thing standing before him is called. A human. What is a covakal doing on Kalee? There aren’t suppose to be any covakals on Kalee. This must be a dream. A strange dream.
“Don’t you worry buddy.” Xaamtaemash hears as he his eyes slowly closes once more. “We’ll get you help. Just hang in ther…”
##############################################################################
“We are lost.” Xaamtaemash says as he and Bimaax walks through the thick jungle’s undergrowth. They have been traveling for five months now. Fulfilling the last part of their training until they both become full priests. A pilgrimage to each of the great temples, each one a place of the greater gods. Those who in mortal life swore their swords and aid to the First God as they free the kaleesh from the terrible demons from beyond the stars.
The Temple they sought was called Kiskktroth. The Temple of Seer’s and of the First God’s first-born daughter. Xaamtaemash has only ever heard stories about the temple. About how those who worship there were all gifted with the power of mavik while in most temples there would only be a select few. They were said to be able to foresee the future much like the First God’s daughter was able to.
Bimaax merely laughs at Xaamtaemash statement. His voice having become more booming since they were children. “We are not lost my old friend. We are merely taking a path that has yet been explored.”
“Your path yet explored led us to a likkix feeding frenzy.” Xaam said in a disapproving tone.
“We survived did we not?” Bimaax says as he hops over a fallen tree. “Besides, we could probably have been able to fight them off.”
“An entire likkix hive? Alone?”
“Why not? You my friend are the son of one of the greatest warlords to have ever grace Kalee. Destine for greatness.”
Xaamtaemash hated when he says things like this. It always reminded him of how little greatness there has been for him since his priestly tutorship had begun. Unlike Bimaax, who’s mask carried an impressive display of accomplishments, Xaamtaemash’s mask was almost barren.
“So says the one everyone expects to be Shrupak’s next Amsurrr one day.” He said, hiding his discomfort with a smile.
Bimaax made a dismissive noise. “Bah! I am too handsome for such a thing. If I become Amsurr, when will I have time to meet my future wives and father my children. No, my friend. I leave such dignified duties to you.”
“And when will I have time to find my wives and father my own children?”
“I fear Xaamtaemash, that will be your problem.”
The two kaleesh laughed and slaps each other on the back comradely.
They continue to walk in the shadows of the trees. The summer is nearing it’s end and soon the cooler seasons will come. This part of Kalee will still bear the sticky heat as most of the jungles that cover the world. But with the season change will come the migration of beasts. The Ito in particular. The large lizards that would stalk the mountains in the warm months, using their thick, stone like hide to blend into the cliffs and crags until they spring upon unsuspecting prey. Only to then shed their stony skin for lighter, more colourful scales as they made their way to the jungles alone.
Being from the mountains Xaamtaemash had seen Ito’s before. He had even almost been devoured by one were it not for the timely intervention from his brothers. While they would pose little threat to him now, he had no wish to encounter them again.
“We should find our path soon.” He says. “It would be shameful if we were to be devoured by beasts while on our pilgrimage.”
“Worry not my friend.” Bimaax said. “We are close to the Seer’s Temple. I can feel it in my soul.”
“Yes.” Xaamtaemash said giving his friend a disapproving look. “I remember you saying much the same before you brought us to the likkix.”
This merely made Bimaax barked in laughter. “You really must stop looking to the past Xaamtaemash. Otherwise, you might start walking backwards. Besides, I think we may have found our salvation.”
Xaamtaemash was about to ask him what he meant, then he heard it. Water. Running water. The two kaleesh walk closer to the sound. It took some time as the trees and plant life grew thicker and closer together as they approached. After squeezing their way through the last of the trees they found themselves by a rushing river.
“See my friend.” Bimaax said as he shoots Xaamtaemash a smile he often wore when he is proven right. “I felt it in my soul.”
“You can’t know that this is the same river that the Temple sit’s upon.”
“True. But you can’t say that it isn’t.”
They decided to follow the river up stream, hoping that this was indeed the river the temple sat upon. If it wasn’t then they may have to return to the suffocating confines of the jungles once more in the hope of finding correct river. Xaamtaemash would rather not do this. The sun had begun to set and while the road he and Bimaax had taken thus far have not been the safest. They have been lucky to not have to set camp in such unprotective places such as likkix infested jungles or rivers where any manner of predators could lurk beneath the waters.
They had begun walking around a bend in the river when Bimaax suddenly asked that they stop so he could refill his waterskin. “I’ll only be a few seconds. You go on ahead and see if the temple is close by.”
“We shouldn’t separate.” Xaamtaemash said. “If something in those waters grabbed you, I may be too far away to aid you.”
“We Skel live by rivers far larger and deeper then this Xaamtaemash.” Bimaax says as he pulls his waterskin from his belt. “If anything, the fishes and beasts that dwell within this river should be fearing me. Now go on. I know how much you wish to see our journey’s end. Or maybe you merely wish to see if the women of Kiskktroh are as beautiful as the stories say?”
Xaamtaemash shook his head at his friend’s antics. “May the Gods have mercy on us if you do become Amsurr.”
Xaamtaemash leaves Bimaax behind as he walks around the bend of the river. As he made the turn his eyes caught sight of a towering spire in the distance. It was made of the purest of white stone, it’s surface gleaming in the sunlight like a beacon. Kiskktroh’s obelisk. They had found the seer’s temple at long last. Xaamtaemash thanked every god he could think of and was about to turn back when he notices something odd.
Laying on the grass, just by the water’s edge was a bone mask atop of carefully folded robes sharing the same colour as the sky. Xaamtaemash walked over to it, caution and concern first and foremost on his mind at the sight. He wondered how on Kalee these things came to be here. Did these belong to one of the priestesses from the temple. If so, why are they out here. Were they preparing to perform some washing only to have forgotten the rest of their laundry. But if that was the case then why did they take their mask off and leave it here.
A loud splash of water took his notice away from the mask and robe. He looks to the river and felt his heart froze. There, standing a in waist deep water, crimson skin glistening in the noon sun was perhaps the most enchanting woman Xaamtaemash has ever laid eye upon.
The woman stares at him in shock silence. Her eyes wide in surprise to finding him standing over what must have been her clothing. Her face perfectly symmetry with raven hair framing it, tusks white as the purest snow. Her expression slowly changed from surprise to one of outright indignation. Xaamtaemash suddenly realizes the terribly position he had found himself in and tries to defend himself, but his mind had become a blank space, and his tongue was unable to form any words.
By the time he had regain some control over his function it was too late. The woman suddenly reaches down beneath the water and in one swift motion pulls her arm out and throws a rock the size of a fist towards Xaamtaemash head.
The last thought he had before it connected was hoping that the gods do not laugh at his ridiculous death.
##############################################################################
Xaamtaemash eyes opened again to find that he was no longer in the strange room facing a human’s back. Instead, now that human faced him and had somehow multiply. They were all facing him. Each one as ugly as the next.
Am I still dreaming? Xaamtaemash wondered as they spoke among themselves.
They seem to be arguing about something or at least that’s what he believes they are doing. Their Basic is too hard to understand most of the time, and Xaamtaemash had little interest in understanding the finer points of their language.
Why should he.
He won’t be here long.
The humans stop their quarrelling and one of them leaves in frustration. The others watch him leave, seeming unsure to follow or stay. One of them, who seems familiar to Xaamtaemash steps closer to him and bends down until they were eye levelled. He seems worried.
“Hey, there.” He said as he places a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We got a doctor coming. She’ll fix you right up. Just stay awake, yeah.”
Awake?
Foolish human.
He’s not awake.
This is a dream.
He needs to wake up.
He needs to be with her.
##############################################################################
They reach the outer walls of Kiskktroth by early evening. Kiskktroth lack the natural protections of cliffs and sea that Shrupak has and so much relay on the defences it’s priestesses had created. The walls were high and made of good, sturdy stones. Tall towers rose up from the jungle floor, their positions perfectly place to allow those within to see any potential threats that my come from paths, rivers or even the distant mountains. Whoever had constructed this place knew very well how to build fortifications that was almost as impenetrable as the Fortress of Tyl.
Xaamtaemash however could think very little on such matters, however. He was too focus on the throbbing of his head as he stumbles his way towards the temple’s thick, wooden gates. Beside him Bimaax walked in an uncommon silence. His eyes shifting from the temple ahead to his friend who he had found unconscious by the river.
He did not tell Bimaax of the woman. He did not wish to invite his friend’s mockery or allusions that would most assuredly would come if he had told him. When asked about the state he was found in, Xaamtaemash calmly told him that he must have forgotten to drink enough water and so suffered for a moment of light headedness. It was a terrible lie, and he felt awful having to debase himself with such deceptions but, it was a matter of keeping both his and the woman’s honour intact.
Kiskktroth gates opens slightly as they approach, allowing a woman in soft, blue robes and two others wearing armour made from mumuu hide and carrying shoni spears. Xaamtaemash and Bimaax came to a stop before the three and bow deeply in respect.
“Shai, priestess of the great temple of Kiskktroth.” Xaamtaemash said. “I am Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl and this is my companion Bimaax Jal Skel. We are initiates of the great temple of Shrupak on pilgrimage. We humbly ask entrance into your temple so that we may receive blessings from your goddess and rest before continuing on our journey.”
The priestess returns the bow. “We of Kiskktorth welcomes you both. Please enter and enjoy our hospitality.”
Passing the large doors with the two guards following close behind, they enter into a large courtyard. The air was full of the mix scents of flowers that grew in small plots on the yard’s edges, while the centre was taken up with the towering obelisk that Xaamtaemash seen just before he saw-
He quickly shook the thought from his mind and kept his eyes on the priestess leading them through the courtyard. As they pass the spire and headed to the tall ziggurat that stood behind the white tower, Bimaax asks a question about the reasoning for it’s creation. Xaamtaemash listens to the conversation, more to keep his mind off his earlier encounter then any real interest.
“The obelisk was built here long before the existence of Kiskktorth.” The priestress said as she led them towards the looming ziggurat that was the heart of the temple. “It was constructed by the Great Seer shortly after the death of her father, the First God. It is said she did this so to mark where her shine would be built when she joins him in the World beyond Worlds.”
“A forward-thinking woman.” Bimaax says as he looks at the white spire of stone.
This earns a small chuckle from the priestess. “You will find most of us here in Kiskktorth are. It comes we our gift of foresight.”
“So, it is true then. That you are all able to see the future?”
“Yes and no.”
“Yes, and no?”
“The future is not something that simply will be.” She explains. “It is more like a tree with many branches. Each branch is a future that will break off into other possible futures which in turn will break off into more possible futures. To know truly which future will come about is almost impossible to the untrained. But here at Kiskktorth we are taught to pick out the most likely events that will come to be and record them so as to aid those who come seeking our guidance.”
“But you still will not be sure? Not truly?” Xaamtaemash asks as he found himself becoming interested in the discussion.
“That is correct Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl. Even the greatest of Seers cannot be accurate with their predictions. Even the Great Seer herself had made mistakes. Which is why we must always be wary with our prophecies and must ensure that we do not fall underneath the delusion that our visions are definite. That is the sin of hubris, and the future is never so consistent.”
They were within the ziggurat now. The hot, humid air was left behind as they marched deeper into the narrow passage that will lead them into the shine chamber. Xaam didn’t like it. The narrowness of the passage reminded him too much of when, during their first trials to become priests of Shrupak, they were forced to fight a sarvak. The deadest creature that haunted the underworld of Kalee.
The thought of that night made his blood run hot as the song of battle suddenly appear in his heart. Twenty of the shrupak’s initiates entered those dark caves armed with spears and swords made from the strongest metals that the Lig tribe’s smith masters could forged. Only eight of them returned.
Bimaax was the one who was honoured with the death of the sarvak. The symbol of it had be placed on his mask by the temple’s Amsurr himself. The first of many through the years as the somewhat imprudent young kaleesh continues to earn one honour after another. He even manages to earn himself the right to be taken as the personal student by their old xakuu. The old warrior turned teacher who taught them everything about fighting, using mavik, and even the history of the kaleesh.
It was little wonder why so many thought that he would become the next Amsurr.
The shine chamber was a large room filled with the scent of burning incense and the flowing fabric of dusk spider silk that hang from the ceiling. They were each coloured differently and each depicted an event from the history of the kaleesh. The slavery of the kaleesh under the demons who came from the stars, The First God rising to challenge their cruel masters, and his death in the War of Betrayals.
The further into the chamber they went Xaamtaemash notices that not all of the banners had images of the past on them. Some even lay bare of any images. He went to ask why this was when he heard soft murmurings.
At the far back of the chamber. Sitting with a legs crossed and dressed in robes that shimmer like the stars themselves was a kaleesh woman with her head bowing to the small shrine before her. A soft whisper could be heard as they approached. And though Xaamtaemash could not truly hear what it was she was saying, he knew a pray when he heard one.
They came to a stop a few feet away from the praying lady. Remaining respectfully silent as they waited for her to finish. As they waited Xaamtaemash took note of the shrine itself. It was a simple thing in truth. A small stone block that had been carved by skilled stone artisans from an age now lost to myths and legends. Long lines cut across the block of stone. Forming strange shapes and pattens that was able to take on different forms if one were to look at it at a certain angle.
If he tilts his head to the right Xaamtaemash saw the image of the Great Seer giving warning to her father, the First God of his impending death. When he tilts it to the left, he saw the Great Seer sitting much like the praying woman is now. Legs crossed, eyes closed, sitting upon stone surrounded by water. If he had the time, he may find a dozen of such scenes cut into the shrine’s surface. Such was the skill their people once held, even in the shadow of their golden age.
The star robe priest finishes her praying and turns to him and Bimaax. She was old, very old. Her crimson skin had become dark like a bruise fruit, her limbs are so skinny that they appear they would snap under any pressure they were put under, and her eyes behind the bone mask she wears had sunken to the point that Xaamtaemash could only see the slightest glint of light from them. But, despite her appearance there is no denying the power she holds in not only in this place but to the Kaleesh as a whole.
Both Xaamtaemash and Bimaax bowed deeply to the elder.
“Shai Amsurr Ronku Lij Tyzom.” Xaamtaemash says. “I am-
“I know who you two are Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl. Initiate of the great temple of Shrupak.” Amsurr Ronku said. Catching Xaamtaemash by surprise by her interruption. “We have already foreseen your arrival to our temple and so already know your names.”
“I see.” Xaamtaemash said uncertainly as he and Bimaax exits their bow. The two of them stand there awkwardly. Not sure how they were to proceed with the leader of a temple full of seers and fortune tellers.
To both of their silent gratitude the Amsurr offer then to sit on the floor with her. There are no cushions or pillows. Such comforts were not welcome within the shine chambers as it could lead to complacency in one’s service to the gods. So, the two sat on the cold stone floor. The guards and priestess who had guided them here both bowed and turn to leave them.
“So, you are here for the blessing of our goddess then.” The Amsurr says.
“And rest if we could.” Bimaax said in his usual flippant tone. “Traveling across all the lands of Kalee is tiring and hungry work after all. Plus, I know my friend has been longing for the comfort of a proper bed.”
Xaamtaemash shoots his friend with a warning look. His jests and amusements may be fine when they are alone but when in front of a Amsurr of a temple he should know better. There are times when he honestly wonders why the gods gave such a fool the power of mavik.
“You must be the funny one then.” She said. If she found Bimaax’s lack of decorum irritating, she did not show it in her voice. “The one who use jokes to hide his own fears and self-doubt.”
Bimaax went to open his mouth to say something, but Amsurr Ronku had already turn to look at Xaamtaemash.
“Which means you must be the serious one. The one who hold tight to the kaleesh laws and traditions. Hoping that in doing so you will no longer be looked upon as your father’s runt.”
The word cut deep into Xaamtaemash. Deeper than he had expected to. He opens his mouth to deny it but found that he couldn’t. Not because he could not find words, but because what she said hold some truths. Perhaps more than he is willing to admit.
Bimaax on the other hand could find his word. And his usual playful tone became harder. “Does the Amsurr of Kiskktorth often insult their guest?”
“Only when they need it” she said while her eyes remain on Xaamtaemash. It was an unnerving sensation. Even though he could not see them beneath the shadows of the mask, Xaamtaemash could sense them. Staring not at him but at something deep within him. He could feel his skin crawl as the seconds tick by, could feel those eyes peeling away the layers of his soul until he became nothing more than a unfurl scroll for her to read.
Then just as quickly as that unnerving feeling came it was gone as she turns her eyes away from him. He let go a breath he did not realize he had been holding.
“You may rest here.” Amsurr Ronku said. “And by the dawn of the third day you may receive your blessing.”
Xaamtaemash bowed his head. However, he noticed that Bimaax did so slower than he did and not as deeply. “Our thanks Amsurr.”
The Amsurr must have notice the slow reaction of his companion too, but she either did not care or thought it wasn’t worth admonishing him. She simply returns their bow and told them that the priestess who will show them to their quarters would be waiting for them at the ziggurat entrance.
“She got quite the tongue on her doesn’t she.” Bimaax says as they climb the stairs. “Sharper than a Lig forged blade.”
“She wouldn’t need it if you had showed more respect.” Xaamtaemash said in return. “She is the Amsurr and we were in the shrine chamber of her temple. You should have known better.”
“I was merely looking out for your health old friend.”
“No.” Xaamtaemash said more sharply than he intended. “You were making another one of your jests again. You need to be more serious Bimaax. There are high expectations upon you. You should act-
“Like you?”
The question was asked with such venom that it surprised Xaamtaemash for a moment. He looks at his friend and found regret in his eyes.
“Forgive me Xaamtaemash.” Bimaax says as he looks downwards at the steps. “I know of what others expect of me. It weighs heavy on my shoulders, and I seek moments of levity to deal with the burden. All I ask is that you do not add to the weight. Please.”
Xaamtaemash did not know what to say. He had never heard Bimaax speak in such a small, weak voice before. For a moment it reminded him of the first days at Shrupak. When he had often confided his own fears and weaknesses to him and of how he had always found a way to banish such doubts with a poor jest or prank. In those days it had seem that nothing could damper Bimaax spirit, even during the worst of their training.
“There is no need for forgiveness old friend.” Xaamtaemash says as he places his hand on Bimaax’s shoulder. “I spoke harshly. I guess the Amsurr words had cut deeper then I first thought.”
This earns a small chuckle from his friend. “Like I said. Sharp as a Lig forged blade.”
“I would say it’s more like the blade claw of a savark.”
Bimaax’s smile broaden and his eyes shine with his usual mischief. “Did the ever-dignified Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl just made a jest?”
“I guess I did.”
The two laughs as they continue up the stairs of the ziggurat. The words of the Amsurr forgotten and again they were just two young kaleesh initiates on a grand journey. Once they have been given the blessing, they could leave Kiskktorth behind and go to the last stop on their pilgrimage. After that they would no longer be initiates but full priests of Shrupak. Xaamtaemash could only imagine what would become of them after that but the one thing he was sure of was that they would be by each other’s side as brothers. If not of blood, then of duty.
However, such thoughts and the exuberance they brought him came crushing down the moment they reached the ziggurat’s entrance. Standing there, wearing the same blue robes and mask he had found by the bank of the river was the woman who he had met earlier that day.
##############################################################################
Xaamtaemash could feel hands holding him. No. Not holding him. Lifting him. He was being carried and by the sound of it they are having a hard time of it.
“Merciful heavens!” One voice said. “This guy is blasting heavy!”
“What are you complaining about! You got his feet.” Said another. This one was older and harsher than the one before it.
“Will you both stop talking. We are almost there.” This voice sounded familiar. Maybe it belongs to that human with the boat.
“I swear Bo! If this alien bastard breaks my back your sister is fixing it and you’re paying for it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just hurry will you. He lost a lot of blood.”
“What is he? Never seen anyone like him before.”
“Maybe he’s a trandoshan?”
“Like you would know what a trandoshan looks like Gibb.” The older voice scoffs.
“I’ve seen one.” The younger one says a little too quickly. “At least I think I did. It had scales.”
“So do fish but you don’t see me thinking this thing is a mon calamari do you.”
“Enough of your bickering!” The familiar voice interjected. Quieting the other voices quarrelling. “If you two can argue like this then you can move your backsides faster. My sister’s clinic is just over the next bridge. Now move.”
They didn’t speak much after that. To which Xaamtaemash was grateful for. Maybe this time he could remain awake and not return to this strange dreams of covakals and worlds that are not Kalee. He longs to be with her again. He longs to see his love.
Londile.
##############################################################################
The courtyard of the Temple of Kiskktroth was a hive of movement, voices, and song. It was Xaamtaemash and Bimaax’s first night here and, as tradition dictate a feast was prepared for the honour of the two would be priests. But Xaamtaemash did not feel like celebrating. While Bimaax was drinking freely of the local’s blend of Jakak and retelling of how he had led his fellow initiates in their first trial to slay a mighty sarvak in its den, Xaamtaemash’s eyes were on every priestess that passed by.
“Looking for someone? Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl.” An all too familiar voice asks.
Xaamtaemash turns to the Amsurr. As guests of honour both he and Bimaax were given the rare opportunity to not only sit at the Amsurr’s table but also to sit beside her. She stares at him with those same glinting eyes that unnerves him.
“No. Amsurr.” He says as he bows his head both in reverence and to avoid their gaze. “I am merely…enjoying your hospitality.”
She laughs, a sound equally frightening. “You are a terrible lair child of Tyl. But that is a good thing. Kaleesh should be terrible lairs, it makes them more honest.”
“Forgive me. I did not mean to offend.”
Again, the Amsurr laughed. “I am not like all my fellows at the other temples. I am much too old and too close to the end of life to suffer offense.”
Xaamtaemash had found himself at a lost as to how to respond to the Kiskktroth’s leader. She was so different to the other Amsurrs he had met during his travels with Bimaax. She still carries the same air of regal authority and dignity as expected with her holy station and yet at the same time she treats it with as little regard as one would treat the input of an unbloodied warrior at a war council.
“You find me strange, don’t you?” She suddenly asks as if reading his thoughts.
“No of course not Amsurr.” He quickly said.
“Ah, there you go lying again. It is alright Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl. You would not be the first to think so. Many visitors think the same. Even my fellow Amsurrs believe I do not act or treat my position with the correct amount of respect that it is due. They are all idiots to think so. Do you know why that is?”
Xaamtaemash shakes his head. “No, Amsurr.”
“It’s because they lack understanding of the Gods and of their gifts to us. The Amsurrs of the war temples think that the gods would have us beat and kill ourselves for vain glories, while the Amsurrs of the Gods of knowledge would have us spend our lives sitting in dark, musky libraries reading scrolls that slowly crumbles with each passing hour. And the Amsurr of your temple is perhaps the worst of all Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl.
He sits upon his throne at Shrupak. Ruling with the unquestioning power of the First God himself and instead of using it to lead the tribes to a brighter dawn, he simply waits for the gods to whisper in his ear. I wonder what it is that he is hoping to hear. Perhaps it for congratulations that he made it to the highest seat of Kalee or maybe he simply fears that they may reprimand his lack of actions.”
Xaamtaemash simply stares at her for a long, silent moment as he tries to form a proper response. “Forgive me Amsurr. But what you just said sounded-
“Blasphemy?” She smiled as if the word did not hold the danger it did. “Perhaps it is. Or perhaps I know more about the gods and their workings than any other kaleesh on Kalee. We have grown too complacent with our worship of the gods, and in doing so we have forgotten that they are not nurse maids for us to suckle to but merely guides to lead us to greatness. You would do well to remember this Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl. Especially in the times to come.”
Xaamtaemash opened his mouth to ask what she had meant but the Amsurr had already turned her head to greet a priestess who had approach the table during their conversation. “Shai granddaughter. Done with your sturdies already?”
He turns to the priestess to give his own greetings but immediately fell silent when he saw who it was. The priestess from the river gave him only a small glance before returning her gaze to the Amsurr. How did he not realize that her eyes were blue before. A rare colour among the kaleesh and one that is said to carries favour with the gods.
“I have grandmother.” She said as she gave a small, but respectful bow of the head. “Though it was a challenge. The Five Hundred and Two Prophecies of Amsurr Jaruuu Lij Hoza could put a blood starved sarvak to sleep. Honestly, I do not know why you insist on us all on reading them. Most of them never came true.”
“Lessons can be learned from failure as well as success child.” The Amsurr says sagely before lifting her hand to present the visibly tense initiate beside her. “Have you met our guests?”
Her eyes drifted to him again, her expression unreadable, though Xaamtaemash could not help but to shrink under their gaze. Those deep dark blue eyes, so much like the deep ocean in it’s unfathomableness. It made his chest swell if an unknowable feeling and his skin hot as if he stood within the heart of a bon fire.
“I have.” She said as she gave him a small bow. One that he quickly returns. “I had the…pleasure of showing them to the guest quarters. We did not have a chance to speak however.”
That was because he was too afraid and embarrassed to. He had stumble upon her while in the mid of bathing. A horrendous crime to a woman’s modesty and innocence. If she was to tell the Amsurr of this he would be lucky to leave the temple as a eunuch and a mark of shame on his mask.
“Then you should join us then and enjoy his company as much as I have.” The Amsurr says, offering an empty seat by Xaamtaemash side. “Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl, I wish to introduce my granddaughter Londile Lij Tyzom.”
“It is an honour.” He says as he felt his heart beating faster as Londile took the offered seat beside him.
She gave him a small smile which somehow manage to brighten the night. Xaamtaemash returns the smile but felt it came off as awkward and foolish. He should say something more. Something witty and intelligent. He did not know why or where this thought came from, but he felt that it was something that needed to be done. And yet as he tries to speak his mind simply became a blank space where thoughts went to die.
So focus was his attention to trying to develop even the most minuscule of sentences that he almost did not notice when the Amsurr rosed from her chair. Two priestesses rushed to aid her, but the old woman shoo them away with a small gesture of her hand.
“Leaving us so soon grandmother?” Londile asks.
“I fear I no longer process the energy or the stubbornness to keep up with you young bloods. Nor the will to pretend to care for any of your talks or gossip. I am too old and too tired and so I will retire for the night. Perhaps I will be lucky and awake to find myself among the gods in the next world.”
“Don’t say such things grandmother.” She said with a wicked smile. “You will outlive us all.”
This earned a laugh from the older woman. “If I do then the gods truly have cursed me.”
The Amsurr left, still chuckling as she headed towards a group of small domiciles built closed to the ziggurat. The same two priestesses who had wanted to aide her before followed close behind, ready to help their elder leader if she required it.
Xaamtaemash watch them go until they disappeared from the light of the fires, as he turns back to the feast, he found Londile looking at him with that same unreadable face she wore when the Amsurr had introduce them. His mouth suddenly went dry.
“I must ask forgiveness from you.” She suddenly says, catching him off-guard.
“Forgiveness? Forgiveness for what?” He asks.
“For my grandmother. I could see that the conversation you two were having was making you uncomfortable.”
“Oh no. The Amsurr was merely telling me of her…views on the gods and temples.”
“And I imagine you had disagreement on such views?”
“I would never challenge an Amsurr in such a way.”
“Ah, so you are that type of initiate.” Londile leans towards him. Placing her elbow on the table and popping her head up with a hand. A small smile graces her lips and Xaamtaemash stomach tightens to an uncomfortable degree.
“I…I do not understand.”
Her smile broadens. “You’re the type of initiate who’s so concern with following the laws and codes of our people that you have become stiff in your way of thinking.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Xaamtaemash says in a voice that was perhaps a little too defensive.
“Maybe.” She says as she took a piece of meat from a nearby plate. “You shouldn’t allow yourself to follow them so closely that you fear speaking your own mind on such things. They are there to help us stay on the path of honour after all. And there is little honour to one who cannot think for oneself.”
Xaam nods finding wisdom in Londile words. “I think I understand.”
“Good. Now tell me Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl. Did my grandmother’s conversations made you uncomfortable?”
“If I must be honest preistress Londile Lij Tyzom, everything about her makes me uncomfortable,”
Londile laughed a sound that was a complete opposite to her grandmother. It was a sound that would make the songs of the dawn and evening birds weep in envy. Xaamtaemash could listen to that sound for the rest of his days and consider it a blessing.
“Well, at least that is something we can agree on.”
They talked throughout the entire feast. It did not matter what the conversation’s subject was about, it was the company they were both interested in. The hours would pass by quickly. Too quickly for Xaamtaemash and he hope for Londile as well. As the last of the night’s festivities came to a close, they said their goodbyes beneath the shadows of the temple’s obelisk.
“I wish to apologize.” She says. “For hitting you with the rock.”
“You should not have to ask forgiveness for that. It was I who had came upon you by while you were…undressed.”
“True. But I do not believe it is fair to place blame on one whose only crime is poor timing. So do not fear. That moment will remain only ours to know.” She smiles. It was different from the one’s she had shown before. Brighter and warmer than ones she shared at the table.
“I hope we meet again.” He said suddenly.
“You are here for another day and night.” She said turning to walk to her own quarters. “I would imagine we would inevitably see each other.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She pauses and looks at him questioningly.
“I meant I hope to see you again after I leave Kiskktroth.”
Londile gave him a knowing smile. “I hope so too.”
##############################################################################
“Do you think you can save him sis?” The familiar voice asks. “He saved my life.”
“I am doing the best I can Bo.” This voice was lighter, softer. “But he lost a lot of blood and slithar claws carries all sorts of harmful bacteria. It’s times like this I wish I had a kolto tank.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You can shut up and let me concentrate.”
Xaamtaemash opens his eyes. Bright light stung them, but he refuses to close them. He looks at his surroundings. Finding himself within a white room, laying on something that was firm but not uncomfortable. The room had a strange smell to it that robs everything of it’s scent. He didn’t like it.
He turns to those who were speaking. They were both humans. He seems to be dreaming of them a lot lately. One of them he seems to know, or at least he thinks he knew him. The other one was a woman wearing a white coat. Her hair was short and gold in colour while her eyes were a pale green. She seems worried as she fanatically collected things from a number of cupboards and placing them on a small table beside where he is laying. She reaches out towards his face. Gentle fingers grasping at the edges of his masks.
With a sudden clarity of what was happening, Xaamtaemash grabbed a hold of her wriest tight. The human woman cried out in shock by the quick movement of what she had thought was someone at death’s door. His eyes narrow dangerously as he glares up to the frighten human.
“Do not take off my mask.” He growls.
“B…but I need to.” She says as her face pales. “I need to examine you.”
“My injuries are on my body. Not my face.”
He was able to maintain the threatening look long enough for the message to be received. Then the moment of lucidity was gone, and his mind became foggy again and his vision started to blur until shapes and colours bleed into each other. He lets go of the woman’s hand and fell back into the past.
##############################################################################
Xaamtaemash sat on a hill alone. He had been sitting there, unmoving since the sun had risen and now it sat in the empty sky. It almost seems to be mocking him as it’s heat warms his skin. He tries to ignore it much like those dark thoughts and visions that still lingers in the back of his mind. Like fowl rot-worms they seek to come to the forefront of his mind. Threatening to drag him back to the point where sanity goes to die. He shakes his head and focus on what is before him.
Down the hills and across the plain of tall grass lay the end of both his and Bimaax’s pilgrimage. Hakaka Xen Vol. The Cursed Place. The place where thousands of summers ago, the First God fought against his traitorous son and died. It was where the final battle of the War of Betrayal came to an end along with Kalee’s golden age.
Much of what the kaleesh had become now could be trace back to this place and the terrible, horrifying events that took place there. The land had become a barren waste land where nothing grows and no beasts no matter how brave or ferocious would go. The air was thick with a wrongness no words could describe and the very earth sucked the strength from the body until one become little more than a hollowed-out shell. And that was only the beginning.
Xaamtaemash shivers and was nearly brought to tears as he half-remembers the whispers and visions that assaulted him throughout the night. He thanks the gods that he could not recall them all in whole.
Why? He wondered as his grip on his arms tighten to the point that the soft fabric of his robe tore, and his claws dug into his flesh. Why was this to be our last test?
His time as an initiate of the temple of Shrupak had never been easy. Each day brought upon a new hardship, a new challenge that tested him in body and mind to the point of exhaustion. Many did not survive. Even now he could still remember the maskless faces and names of temple-brothers who had met their end due to those lessons. He had thought of them as the unlucky ones, but now he envies them. He envies them because they died not knowing the horrors of Hakaka Xen Vol.
“You should leave.” Came a voice.
Panic grips Xaamtaemash’s heart for a moment, fearing the cursed spirits that haunted Hakaka Xen Vol had followed him here. How grateful he was when he found that it was not some demonic spirit who had spoken but a dark robed kaleesh. He did not hear him approach, did not even sense him with the use of the mavik. Had he been so caught up in his own thoughts that he had left himself vulnerable.
The dark robe kaleesh was tall. Almost as tall as Xaamteamsh’s own father. He carried a long shoni spear and his face was maskless. Xaamtaemash knew who or perhaps more accurately what he was. A Jatuti. A kaleesh who had dishonored himself with such severity that his mask had been taken away and destroyed. It was a fate worst then death, for it meant that his soul would not travel to Abesmi. The gateway to the World beyond Worlds.
The sight of such a creature should have filled him with hate and loathing, but he just did not have the strength for such emotions. Instead, he simply turns away and continue to watch the Cursed Place.
“I am waiting for my friend.” He said.
“If your friend had not returned from that place by dawn. Then he has joined the Lost Ones.”
Xaamtaemash shook his head. “No. You do not know Bimaax. He is the strongest of us. The most skilled, the most powerful with mavik. He is to be the next Amsurr of Shrupak. He would not have failed.”
The Jatut did not speak for a long time, but Xaamteamash could feel his eyes upon him. “Those traits are indeed things an Amsurr should have. But it is not strength, skill or power that is tested in that place.”
“Then what is?” Xaamteamash asks.
“Conviction.”
Xaamtaemash suddenly turns to rebuke the Jatut’s assertion. Bimaax had conviction. Despite his constant jokes, his disregard for proper protocols. Despite all his flaws, Xaamtaemash knew that his friend held the kaleesh belief with the same commitment that he had. But, to his surprise he found himself alone again.
The Jatut was gone. Almost as if he had simply vanished into the air itself. Xaamtaemash turns back to look off into the distant. Mumbling that the Jatut was an honourless fool who knew nothing. He remains sitting there, on top of that lonely hill until the dawn of the next day.
##############################################################################
A soft humming sound drew Xaamtaemash out of his dream. It sounded so familiar, like he had heard it before. It made him think of happier times. Of times when he was not alone, of when he had someone who stood by him, who gave him strength when his own had been exhausted. His eyes slowly opened to find himself in the same room he had found himself in before. White walls, that strange smell that stole all other smells and the firm bed.
“Oh, you’re awake.”
Xaamtaemash turns to find the woman who had try to take his mask. She stood by the cupboards with some kind of square device in her hands. She gave him a nervous smile as she places the device down and walks over to him, stopping just out of reach of his hands.
“It was a bit touch and go there for a moment.” She says. “You lost a lot of blood and some of those scratches got infected. But thankfully it seems you made of sturdier stuff then most species.”
“How long?” He tries to ask, finding his mouth had become as dry as the Xauhsah desert. “How long has I’ve been here?”
“For about three days.”
“Then I have been here too long.” Xaamtaemash says as he tries to lift himself off the bed. Making the human woman quickly place her hand on his bandage chest and gently push him back onto the bed. To his surprise she was able to force him back down with little effort.
“Woah, there big boy.” She said while giving him a disapproving look. “While your body may be able to heal quickly you still need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“But…”
“No buts. And don’t even think about doing that scary growling thing again. I used to own a pet gator hound so that won’t work a second time.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it. She was right. As much as he hates to admit it, his body was too weak to move. He would most likely only be able to take a few steps before his strength fails him and he fall to the ground. He nods his understanding and remain laying on the bed.
The human woman then went about asking questions about his health. If he felt any pain, where it was, it’s intensity. Xaamtaemash answers as best he could. While he had learned to speak basic passably there were still a few words and meaning he had yet to fully grasp. Thankfully the human, the Doctor, was patient and even helped him whenever he mispronounced a word.
“That should be everything I need now.” She said returning the cupboard to pick up the strange device again. “Get some rest now. I’ll come back to check up on you later.”
“Wait.” Xaamtaemash earning a questioning look from her. “That song you were…making sound with.”
The Doctor head tilted slightly, looking confuse for a moment before realization dawns on her. “You mean my humming?”
“Yes.” Xaamtaemash nods. “Could you do that again?”
The Doctor smiles at his request. “You want me to sing you a lullaby?”
“Please.”
The smile on the human’s face falters when she heard the pained desperation in the kaleesh’s voice. “Umm…Okay.”
She started to hum again. It was the some tune from before, soft and melodious. Xaamtaemash closes his eyes and listens to it. Allowing the gentle music to carry him away back to those days of joy that he longs for.
##############################################################################
Londile hums softly as she prepares for the day. Her blue robes cleaned, her lang raven hair had finally been tamed after another long battle in the morning. Her belt carried the necessary tokens and charms of faith along with a dagger with a hilt made from the task of a mumuu male. She stares at herself at the polish mirror and found herself to be perfectly presentable for another day in Kiskktorth.
“I like that sound.” Came a voice from her bed.
She smiled as she turns to look at the maskless, resting form of Xaamtaemash Jal Tyl. It had been a month since his returned from Hakaka Xen Vol, and like all those who manage to return from that vile place he was drained physically and spiritually. The vision she had of his return did not nearly prepare her for the reality of it. He was close to death. Not the death that comes at the end of life but of one that breaks it, that turns heathy, young kaleesh into nothing but empty shells.
“Those who become like that rarely recover granddaughter.” Her grandmother had said when she had taken the initiate, now priest into her care. “They become nothing but breathing corpses. It is better to end their suffering so that they may find peace.”
During those early days those words haunted her as she struggles to bring Xaamtaemash back to what he had been before. The stiff but caring young blood who made the brief time they spent together some of her most precious memories. At first, he did not eat or drink, he would awake from nightmares screaming, and they were days when he would not leave his bed. But slowly and with great care she brought him out of that darkness that had taken hold of him and healed his wounded soul.
“It is an old sea song of the Tyzom.” She said as she went to sit by his side. “My mother use to sing it every time my father would go fishing. She told me it would help to lead him back home.”
Xaamtaemash leans into her, planting a small kiss to her lips. “It must be a powerful song to lead the lost back to their love ones.”
“It must be indeed.” She says as she stares into those kind eyes that had captivated her since that night.
They remain there with one another for a while. Neither one of them saying so much as a whisper, for they have grown pass the need for such trivial things as words to express their feelings for each other. As she sat there Londile remembered the vision she had received a few moons before Xaamtaemash and his friend Bimaax arrived. In it she had stood before an altar of union with a priestess dressed in robes of softest reds standing behind it speaking the sacred words of the unity of two souls and of two lives becoming one. Her own robes had been replaced with a gown of purest white and gold as the man who knelt beside her also wore those blessed colours.
She did not know if it was Xaamtaemash who she had seen in that vision. She did not even know if that vision will ever come to pass. But, in that quiet moment with the two of them leaning against each other, their hands entwined and their heart beating with the new passion for life that only love could bring.
She prays to their gods that the vision be true and that nothing will ever drive them apart.