Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan (39 page)

Mere seconds after they had entered the
training area, Humonus pointed at Baltor’s sword before saying,
“Wow….that’s a beauty! Don’t think I didn’t notice it before, but I
just had too many other things going on in my mind. So, where on
earth did you find that?”

Baltor replied as he glanced down to his
sword, “This—this was created by my grandfather, long ago. But we
can talk about that at the bar, right?”

Humonus laughed and said, “Sure.”

The two then made their way out of the Guild,
and toward the local bar that they used to drink at occasionally
called,
The Hurried Wind
.

After having entered the packed tavern, and
taking the only two empty stools that sat next to the bar, a fat
man with long, greasy black hair and an apron approached from
behind the bar, a man that Baltor remembered as Kerrick.

Kerrick greeted enthusiastically, “Hey there,
Humonus and Baltor! Long time no sees either of you guys,
especially you, Baltor—how’s it going?”

“Good,” both men replied.

“So what can I getcha’?”

Humonus replied, “I’ll have a mug of Bolinksy
ale.”

Baltor added, “I’ll have the same,
Kerrick.”

“One minute, guys.”

Once Kerrick had gone to retrieve two mugs,
Humonus asked, “So tell me more about that sword—I’m dying to know
all about it!”

It was then that Kerrick returned with the
drinks, collected the two parsecs from Humonus, and went to serve
the next customer.

Baltor next recalled all the stories and
legends of the sword that his father had passed on to him;
meanwhile, Humonus held on to the sword and gazed at each little
part adoringly.

Once he had completed with the saga, Humonus
then returned it back—Baltor sheathed his sword.

Humonus took a deep draught and sighed,
“Whew. So, it’s really because of this sword that is how you ended
up orphaned and destitute…am I right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Humonus sucked the last drop from his mug,
and then said, “Wow!” He then observed that Baltor had not touched
his drink, and asked, “You’re not going to drink that?”

Baltor shook his head negatively.

“Well, you don’t mind if I have that, do
you?”

“Not at all, my friend, not at all.”

Humonus took the mug and began to consume it.
He had finished his third round when his eyes first spotted a large
group of the Sultan’s guards entering the door—there were at least
nine of them. Both Baltor and Humonus turned their eyes toward the
guards, but not their heads.

The captain held out a rolled-up scroll in
his hand, and declared, “The Sultan has decreed that all
inhabitants are to pay twenty percent of whatever they own to
him—we have been sent to collect! All of you are to pay at this
time, or we will immediately execute you. Are there any
questions?”

One skinny man stood up and said in a whiny
voice, “I have one—I was at home not even an hour ago when the
Sultan’s guards came to my door stating the exact same thing, and I
paid! My question is: Do I have to pay again?”

The captain laughed, “Yes, you do. You should
have stayed at home where you belong. If you’re coming to bars,
then that means you must have plenty more to give for charity.”

The man exclaimed, “That’s bunk. I already
paid once, and I’ll be damned if I pay again!”

A couple of other grumbles filled the tavern.
However, before this man’s words of defiance could carry throughout
the crowd, the captain hurriedly walked over to the man, and
without hesitating, he chopped off the man’s head—many gasped in
horror and fear at being the next.

The captain then asked, “Does anyone else
have any questions or problems?”

No one said a word.

The guards began to extract from the patrons
whatever goodies they wanted—meanwhile, Baltor and Humonus sat
where they were at, and said nothing.

It appeared obvious that Baltor’s sword had
no less of an impact on this captain, for he soon approached and
asked, “Well, what’s this?”

Baltor looked over at the man, before he
casually replied, “It’s my ancestral sword.”

“Hmmm.” the captain said. He gazed adoringly
at the diamonds that brilliantly reflected the lights in the
room.

“I think I’m just going to take—” he said as
he reached for the sword, but became interrupted in two different
ways.

“I don’t think so,” Baltor interrupted—at the
same time, his hand had physically interrupted the captain by
grabbing the man’s wrist, twisting, and locking him into an
inescapable position by the time the word “so” had crossed his
lips.

The captain yelped out in pain, “Guards! Kill
him!”

From Baltor’s peripherals, he saw that
Humonus had his hand on the hilt of his dagger, but had not pulled
it out just yet.

Meanwhile, the other guards slowly drew
nearer.

Baltor felt the urge to sink his teeth into
this man’s neck, but resisted—after all, he didn’t want Humonus to
know the truth about what he had become.

Instead, he simply twisted more upon the
wrist, causing the captain’s face to mesh even farther into the
disgusting floor. He then called out, “Stop! If any of you come any
closer, I will literally rip your captain’s arm right out of his
shoulder!”

Meanwhile, the captain screamed in horrific
pain, “Stop! Stop! Please, I beg of you, quit hurting me!”

The guards stopped, though still with swords
drawn.

“Drop your swords, or this man dies,” Baltor
commanded.

The guards reluctantly did as ordered.

“Now, clear away so that my friend and I can
safely depart. Only once we are outside and clear, will I then let
go of your captain. Oh, don’t even think of following us either, or
you will regret it, I promise you that!”

The guards shuffled their way so that there
was plenty of room for them to depart.

Baltor twisted the captain’s wrist the other
way, which caused him to jerk back onto his feet though still off
balanced, and still firmly locked by his grip! Humonus silently
noted with pride in his eyes, regarding his former student’s
“outstanding performance.”

The three made their way outside, and the
rest of the guards stayed put inside.

Once outside, Baltor slammed his elbow into
the back of the captain’s neck, knocking him out cold.

“Forget the house for now,” Baltor growled.
“Let’s go back to the Guild, before they come out.”

Humonus and Baltor wasted no time in getting
back to the Guild, via the back routes.

Once they were safely in Humonus’s room, he
said, “You know, Baltor, there will be a high price on our heads by
morning. And you know that there were plenty of guards who will be
able to identify us—they will comb this city seeking us out!”

Smacking a fist into his open palm, Baltor
angrily replied, “Let them come!”

Humonus extended his hands out in front of
him, and while waving them around, he said, “No… The Guild must be
kept top secret!”

Instead of pushing the subject, Baltor said,
“Fine—still, I would suggest that you find any High Council member,
and tell whomever, that we need to conduct a meeting first thing
tomorrow night. As I said before, the quest I went on taught me a
lot of useful information about our past, present, and especially
about our tomorrows!”

Even though Humonus still looked both nervous
and unconvinced, he still said, “I shall try to do what I can. As
for tonight, I suggest we both sleep in the underground caverns,
just in case.”

“I agree with your suggestion,” Baltor
replied.

For the rest of that night, they slept
hundreds of feet below ground.

The following night, Baltor awoke to find
that he was alone in the cavern; he could still see clearly in the
dark, as it was only his second night since he had last
feasted.

Baltor made his way back up and toward the
surface.

Even as Baltor passed by the training area,
he could not see Humonus anywhere. However, after entering the main
foyer to the guild, Baltor’s eyes first rested upon Lydia, who was
sitting on one of the lush couches alone.

Her eyes gazed up from oblivion and toward
Baltor as he approached, and said pleasantly, “Good evening to you,
Baltor.”

Baltor bowed low and replied, “Good evening
to you, my Mistress.”

Without waiting for any more cordiality, he
asked, “Has the High Council determined whether they will see me or
not?”

Lydia answered, “Yes, we will. In forty-five
minutes from now, we will convene to hear your story. However, you
will only be given five minutes of our most-precious time.”

After a nod, Baltor replied, “Fair enough. I
need to tell you something really, really important, but I need you
to listen to me until I’m done and don’t say a word. Okay?”

Though looking very confused, Lydia answered,
“Uh—sure.”

For the next forty-four minutes to pass,
Baltor explained to Lydia about his two separate encounters with
Salmot, and the fact that Salmot had tried to kill him both
times.

During the second encounter, Baltor really
had no choice but use self defense and kill Salmot, who was
hell-bent on killing him. Before she could react, he explained that
“this worm” had never gave a damn about the Guild or about Lydia,
yet greedily used everyone for his own profitable gain.

At the end of Baltor’s explanation, he again
reiterated that he had no choice but to kill Salmot in the end.

As he had gone through his story, Lydia
looked in disbelief, shock, then horror, and finally grief! Her
body began to tremble, and then she tried to run away and escape,
but Baltor was ready as he clutched on to her tightly.

He sighed, “I’m sorry, my Mistress! I didn’t
want to kill him, but seriously, I had no other choice.”

After a couple of more minutes of struggling
had passed, her body finally began to relax—even though there were
still the flowing tears and sobs.

A minute or two later, he released her, and
looked at her dead in the eyes, as he gently confirmed for the
fourth time, “I had no other choice. Besides he only used you
anyway.”

Lydia’s teary eyes continued to meet his, and
after a few more moments, she shook her head in disbelief, flatly
stating, “I don’t believe you. You never saw Salmot the way I did,
especially during our intimate moments—he was like a little boy! I
don’t even know why I just told you that!”

“Most likely you told me because you are
upset, my Mistress! You must believe me—I swear that all I’ve said
is true!” Baltor swore.

A masculine voice suddenly interrupted their
little heated conversation in the hallway, by calling out, “Are you
ready to join us, Mistress Lydia? The remainder of the High Council
is quite anxious to see Baltor after his quest.”

Lydia turned away to face the man, and said,
“Yes, we’ll be right there, Master Jensa.” She then turned back to
Baltor and said, “There are always two sides to every story,
Baltor. You have your viewpoint, as would Master Salmot, if he
could have given his side. For now, follow me.”

Without another word, Lydia escorted Baltor
into the room of thrones, and then she took her place in the High
Council. Instead of Baltor taking the offered wooden seat that sat
in the middle, he chose to stand up.

He began, “Masters and Mistresses of the High
Council, I have been given five minutes to explain a mission that
took nearly a year to perform… a three-fold mission, really, that
all began because of the top half of an ancient map found in our
underground labyrinth due to a major earthquake.

“Number one, locate the tower; number two,
retrieve the Rod of Ro’shain, and number three, retrieve the bottom
half of the map!

“As for number one, the tower itself does
exist, though it is in such a serious stage of decay that I doubt
it’ll last too much longer, maybe several years, tops. As for
number two, yes, I did explore everything possible in and around
this tower, but no, the Rod of Ro’shain could not be found
anywhere; that is, if it ever really did exist in the first
place.”

“Mistress Tricia,” Baltor said, while pulling
the map out, walking over to her, and extending it for her to take,
“as for number three, here is the bottom half of the map, which
obviously proves my claims that I did indeed make it to the black
tower. Regarding the map I just handed you, you will soon find that
it is as authentic as the top half of the map, which should still
be in your possession.”

“Thank you, Baltor, it is,” she said
happily.

He continued, “Even though one-third of my
mission was a failure by retrieving the rod itself, the other
two-thirds of my mission were a complete success, which makes me
feel like my mission was a success, ultimately.

“Especially if you were to consider all the
trials and tribulations I overcame through my adventure, like
barely surviving through deserts, blizzards and jungles, even
escaping from a vicious cannibal tribe! Of course, my story would
take far more than five minutes to explain. More like five hours,
or maybe even five days!”

After a short pause, he asked, “So…do you
all—Masters and Mistresses of the High Council—find my quest to be
a success, as well?”

After Tricia had looked to her left and her
right, and saw most of heads nodding with pleased smiles,
especially because of the recovery to the bottom half of the
world-map, she confirmed, “We of the High Council do find your
quest to be a complete success. As a result, we are promoting you
to your first official rank: ‘Thief.’ Congratulations!

“As for the monetary reward that you will
receive from the Guild for all your efforts, we—the High
Council—will award you that amount in the next week or so, once
we’ve decided how much this map is worth.”

Baltor said with a low bow, “Thank you, my
Mistress. Before I go, may I be allowed one more minute of the High
Council’s most-valuable time?”