Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan (20 page)

After handing it all to the girl, he next
pulled out two brand-new daggers, whose blades were six-inches
long, and set those daggers onto the bed.

The second his wall locker was locked, two
seconds later, he looked over at the girl, cocking his head toward
the training area. Understanding the gesture, the girl nodded.

Upon seeing the nod, he turned around and
exited the bunkhouse—of course, she followed.

Once at the training area, he first set the
daggers into two empty slots at one of the weapons’ racks. He then
picked up another weapon lying nearby on the same rack, which was
his “weapon of choice” as he had used it many times before in
training—a three-and-a-half-foot long curvy saber that had a
two-foot long/dual-edged/razor-sharp blade.

Of course, he had the perfect sheath, but he
had forgotten to take it out of his wall locker and attach it to
his belt. This sheath consisted of two links of a
waterproofed-steel chain—the top link could loop around his belt
strap. The bottom link could house the sword just below the very
curvy defensive bracers.

After testing out the saber out for nearly a
minute and discovering that everything about it was still perfect,
he extended the handle to the girl. Upon taking it, the girl said
with a flirty smile, “Have a good night.”

Returning a sheepish smile, he shyly looked
to the ground before replying, “You too.”

As he quickly turned around and darted back
for the barracks in order to go back to sleep, he only then began
to strongly suspect who was guilty of making all this happen where
he only had one weapon—Master Salmot. However, he also realized
that there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it, so he might
as well think of just about everything as “a challenge.”

He slept blissfully away for the remainder of
the night.

Before the break of dawn the following
morning, he performed his morning routine of eating, brushing his
teeth, showering, and dressing. Today, besides choosing to wear the
loose-fitting pants, long-sleeve shirt and knee-high boots—clothing
that was all the color of the desert sands—he, of course, donned
his belt and chain-linked sheath.

Once dressed, he next began the important
task of neatly packing a week’s worth of his clothes, socks and
drawers into a large waterproofed backpack. It was “packed to the
rim” with an extra pair of boots, flint, torches and other camping
necessities.

The final stage of packing came upon filling
one final medium bag that had hooks attached near the top, which
bag contained all his living supplies like soaps, brushes,
toothpastes & toothbrushes, a month’s worth of dried rations,
etc., etc.

After strapping the backpack on tightly, as
well picking up the bag, Baltor made his way for the palace’s front
doors, where his mount and weapon were supposed to be located.

Upon exiting the main doors, nearly an hour
later, he observed a larger-than-average camel standing on the
granite path about sixty feet away.

Standing loosely around the camel and
chatting happily away were three people he knew all—too—well. Thus
was he sure that this camel was his mode of transportation.

The only one of the three Baltor expected to
be there for his departure was Varce—the other two people who
surprised the heck out of Baltor, because of their presence, were
Humonus and Lydia. All three were unaware to Baltor’s presence, of
who was walking their way.

Only a second or two later, he observed that
Humonus held onto the camel’s reins.

In between the camel’s two humps, there
rested a leather saddle topped with thick pillows. And firmly
latched onto the sides of the saddle were four large leather
bags—two on each side—as well a dozen gallon-sized leather
canteens. Finally, yet most importantly, he saw that there was a
leather-bound sheath attached to the right side that held and
concealed most of his saber—still the one and only weapon in his
arsenal.

Once Baltor had drawn to about thirty feet
away, his eyes observed that Varce was the first to spot him
approaching.

Right away Varce extended his hand out,
warmly smiled, and declared, “Hey Baltor! Glad you could make it.
Now before I leave, which I must here in a second, I wish you good
luck. I hope and pray that I have been of help to you in your most
honorable quest, my friend!”

“Thank you, Varce, you already has,” Baltor
replied sincerely as the two men briskly shook hands.

Once released, Varce nodded one final time to
Lydia and Humonus, before departing on his merry way.

Meanwhile, Baltor had already turned to Lydia
with a slightly suspicious look, and asked, “So you came to see me
off, as well?”

“Of course, Baltor,” Lydia replied, throwing
him a tight hug of her own. “You’re a great friend of mine.”

Not only did Baltor feel a little unnerved by
the hug, he did not return that hug either. Instead, he asked with
quite a bit of sarcasm, “Aren’t you afraid that your boyfriend will
become upset by your public display of affection?”

Without intending to spill his name, Lydia
didn’t let release the hug, as she defended, “Salmot has done
nothing wrong.”

“So that’s who your boyfriend is?” was
Baltor’s indignant reply.

With a cluck of his tongue, he shook his
head, answering, “Then I strongly suggest that you let go of
me—especially with someone like that!”

Lydia grew visibly offended and hurt by his
comment, and so she let go. She looked at Baltor for only a second
longer—with that same look—before walking very briskly for the
palace’s front doors. Meanwhile, both men silently watched her
until the guards closed the doors behind her.

Once she was gone, Humonus turned back to
Baltor, and said, “You should watch what you say to people,
especially to a member of the High Council. That was clearly a sign
of disrespect!”

Angrily, Baltor pointed his index finger at
Humonus and retorted, “It is my belief that she disrespected me by
manipulating me and my feelings from the get-go!”

Humonus didn’t immediately respond to
Baltor’s accusation but waited for him to lower his hand first. He
then softly said, “Baltor, she didn’t use you. She loves you, but
not in that way—she looks at you like a little brother. Many times
during your training, she came to me and asked about your progress,
though she did not have to do this. In my belief, had it not been
for her, you would still be a vagrant on the streets, and quite
probably, dead.”

With a clear look of anger still on his face,
Baltor took off his backpack, tied it onto the other side of the
saddle where there was some free room, climbed onto his camel, and
grabbed the reins.

“Baltor, Baltor, Baltor,” Humonus finally
said. “You will have plenty of time to consider my words of wisdom.
Perhaps by the time you return, you will understand.”

Baltor was about to snap the reins, but
Humonus also grabbed them before he could.

After another sigh of resignation, Humonus
added, “Before you depart, there are two crucial things I need to
tell you, which Mistress Lydia mentioned to me before your arrival.
The first is that your map and new identification papers are safely
tucked away within this here pouch.”

Baltor asked with a sneer, “She told you
about the map?”

“Only that there is one—”

“Why’d she tell you about something that’s
been labeled ‘top, top, top secret’ by the Guild?”

Humonus answered with both a shocked look to
his face, and a question, “Why—don’t you trust me anymore?”

“Of course I do, Humonus, I’m just quite a
bit surprised. The High Council did classify this mission: top-top
secret.”

“Maybe she’s the type of woman who can’t keep
her mouth shut?” Humonus once again answered with a question.

After a short pause to contemplate his
friend’s words, Baltor said, “Maybe. So what was the second thing
you had to tell me?”

“Something that was told to you long
ago—there are double agents within every guild. You can bet that
there are others besides me who also know about the map and shall
attempt to steal it from you along the way so that they can take
the treasure.”

“Humonus, my friend, I’d like to thank you
once again for your words of wisdom. I shall guard the map with my
life.”

Without another word, Humonus let go of the
reins.

Baltor was about to snap those reins, but
instead he looked back and asked, “Oh, Humonus?”

“Yes, Baltor.”

“Would you please do me a favor?”

Humonus said, “You name it, my friend, and it
shall be done.”

“Would you please tell Mistress Lydia that
I’m sorry for the immature way I’ve been behaving? I’m just, I’m
just—”

Humonus interrupted, “You’re just in love,
Baltor. I shall tell her as soon as you are gone.”

“Thank you, my friend, and goodbye.”

“Goodbye to you, my friend.”

Baltor looked ahead to the gates of the
thieves’ guild, and was about to snap the reins for the second
time. However, Humonus suddenly remembered something. “Oh
wait—Baltor!”

In turn, Baltor looked back to his old
friend. “Yes?”

After pulling something out of his front
pocket, and holding it inside his closed left fist, Humonus said,
“I have a gift for you.”

“What?”

Instead of answering, Humonus extended his
closed fist out in front of him and said, “Take it.”

Baltor extended his right hand out,
open-palmed, and took the golden object that had just fallen into
his hand. As he looked at it closer, he could see an
eighth-inch-thick gold necklace that even had a gold arrowhead as
its ornament.

“Wow,” Baltor could only say.

Humonus asked with a very cunning smile, “So
you like it?”

“I love it—thanks, my friend!”

“Just so you know…there is something very
special about that arrowhead.”

“No way.” Baltor realized aloud with chills
that ran up and down his body! His gaze strayed to the scar on his
left forearm.

“Yup!” Humonus replied with quite a bit of
excitement. He next said in a commanding tone of voice, “Let it
always be a reminder to you that you can accomplish anything if you
set your mind to it.”

As Humonus had said his last statement,
Baltor donned the necklace and gazed at it once again adoringly. It
was just big enough where if he looked down, he would always see
it!

Humonus concluded, “Goodbye, my friend. You
come back soon now, you hear?”

With a single tear that streamed from
Baltor’s right eye and down his cheek, he looked back over, and
replied, “I will! You know, in my opinion, I think the Guild should
make you an official master! Hopefully long before the time I come
back, which I will, they will see this as well and make it so…
Master Humonus.”

With that, Baltor looked back to the gates,
and lightly flicked the reins on the camel to spur it on.

A minute later, the guards opened the gates
to the thieves’ guild, and then Baltor departed. Humonus silently
watched until his friend was completely out of sight before he
re-entered the main palace.

Five minutes later, Baltor approached the
first of the inner checkpoints within the city. After he had pulled
out the new id that stated he was an “upper class” man who went by
the name of “Lord Poleax,” he handed the paperwork to a guard.

That guard handed it to his sergeant, who
then checked to make sure that it was still valid and official.
After a bow, the supervisor said, “You may pass, Lord Poleax.”

Baltor returned a nod of his own and
passed.

About two hours later, which included a
fifteen-minute shopping trip at the bazaar to get camping supplies
and five months of dried rations, he passed through the final
checkpoint that would lead him out into the vast Sharia Desert.

By this time, he was keenly aware of the fact
that there were two riders on horseback following at a distance of
about three hundred and fifty feet behind him, though he did not
make this detection obvious. Without looking back once, Baltor
continued to ride out the opened gates.

Almost another hour had passed, before he
heard the galloping sounds of hoofs coming from behind—he knew that
his followers were ready to attack.

Just as the galloping sounds began to draw
closer and closer, he first tugged straight back upon the reins
with both of his hands, which caused the camel to stop in its
tracks.

Baltor, with his left hand, pulled the reins
to the left, which caused his camel to begin turning in that same
direction. As for his right hand, that had already drawn out his
saber while raising it straight over his head.

Although they were still about eighty feet
behind him, Baltor observed that it was the same two riders, still
both wearing turbans and veils to hide their identities.

Only now, both riders had a sword raised high
into the air; the one on the left held the sword in the left hand,
while the one on the right held his sword in the right hand.

A few seconds later, just as the riders were
nearing fifty feet, the rider on the right pulled hard on the reins
to the right, which caused that rider’s horse to sharply veer in
that direction. Meanwhile, the rider on the left pulled hard on the
reins to the left, which caused his or her horse to veer to the
left.

About twenty seconds later, both riders
stopped their horses at the same time—the first rider was about
thirty feet away to his left, while the second rider to the right
was about forty feet—he was outflanked, but that was okay by
Baltor.

Without fear, he turned his camel ninety more
degrees, until he faced both riders out of the corner of each eye,
and then he relaxed his grip on the reins, which caused the camel
to stop—after all, he was quite aware that the horses could easily
outrun his camel.