10

THE BLIND SHAMAN

I STAYED WITH JESUP, RAMA, AND HAMMET FOR THREE DAYS. For those three days and nights we buried the remains of our people. And one the last night we finally buried Karatas, and Latana next to each other. We put King Urmhet in the tomb created for the greatest of Akkadian Kings.

It was the hardest thing I have done in my life, burying a part of my family.

As we left the tomb, I decided that I have had enough.

I had to regain back the honor of my once great tribe.

I had to rise above the ashes of the place I had once called home.

It was decided that Iwas to leave for the harbor city the next day.

---

I managed to get one of the surviving steeds. A strong horse with a dark brown hide and a mane of night black.

I placed a saddle on it's back, along with blankets, and the little provisions I had salvaged.

I led the horse down the still ash ridden streets through the place I had grow up in and had called home.

I stopped at a particularly burned home. It's walls where charred pieces of wood and clay, it's door was a pile of ash, it's roof was nothing less then I shambles.

Strange to think that this home was where I had been born, where I had been raised. Where me and my brother's had dreamed of seeing the world and all of it's glory.

This place was my home, or it once was anyway.

And now it was barely recognizable to anyone, even me.

I sighed to myself, walked to the burned hut and went through the door. Looking around, I saw the floor was almost covered completely in ash.

The cots that my family had once slept in where nothing more than charred wood, our blankets where ash, small memoirs that we had that had reminded us of our child hood like our first bows our first wooden swords where noting more than burnt kindling.

Only one thing was recognizable. A chest that had once belonged to my father.

It wasn't the same ebony chest, lined with polished steel that I remembered, it was now charred and ashy gray in color, it's lining looked as if it had been weathered by the fires of hell.

I went to the chest bent down before it and, with at steady hand I went to unlock the lock.

The metal was so badly burned that all I had to do was yank at the lock and it cracked and broke into pieces in my hand.

I lifted the lid to see the cash of throwing knifes my father had crafted years ago.

Each knife was (real surprisingly), in great condition. Each blade wasn't dulled but, instead, probably more sharpened than I could of dreamed, each handle was as fine as the blades, made of the finest dark woods and decorated with the finest gold tipping.

I put several of the knifes in the few sheathes around my belt, and took the rest of the knifes to pack on to my horse.

This was how Jesup found me, packing knifes on to my ride.

"You're leaving now?" He asked, surprised.

I did not answer. I didn't know how to. Instead I just packed the last of the throwing knifes and tightened the saddle.

"I'd thought you'd wait until Rama's wounds had healed, then we could all go together."

I took a deep breath and turned to my war-hardened brother.

"I can't stay here and do nothing while that damned sorcerer is out there probably doing the same thing to other tribes as he's done to ours, Jesup," I told him. "I have to stop him, before he kills others."

I turned back to tightening the horses saddle. Once it was good and tight I went up to the horse to climb onto the saddle when Jesup spoke.

"Then you should take this. I managed to save it from the raid and the fire," he said.

I turned to see him pull a scimitar out of his leather sheathe.

This scimitar was different than all the other's I had seen. It's blade seemed to gleam in the harsh desert sun, it's handle was made of the same dark wood as was all of my father's throwing knifes, it's handle was also tipped with the finest gold.

I knew whose scimitar this had originally had been the second my eyes had first laid on it.

"You know whose scimitar this is don't you?" Jesup asked. "It's been awhile since you saw it."

"I do," I replied softly. "It was my father's."

Jesup nodded.

"Before he died he told me to give this to you after your test, when you became an assassin. You disserve it now."

Jesup handed me the blade.

It was strange, but the blade (for the first time that I can remember) wasn't heavy, nor was it too light, it was if it had been made for me and me alone.

I sheathed the scimitar in my leather sheath. Nodded my thanks to Jesup, and went to my steed and climbed onto the saddle.

"Mathayus," Jesup said. "The closest harbor city is miles away. When you get to the harbor, find a man named Seti, tell him you've Jesup's younger brother. He'll be sure to help you, and be careful. "

"I know," I told him.

"No, Mathayus," Jesup said, suddenly stern. "I mean it."

I looked to my older war-hardened brother who, for the first time since I could remember,had fear in his eyes.

"I don't want to bury you as well."

I nodded.

"I will be back," I told him confidently. "I promise you."

Jesup took a deep breath, then nodded.

He held out his hand.

"Live Free," He spoke.

I took him by the wrist, our arm guards clapping together.

"Die well," I said, completing the farewell.

I shook his hand once and let go of his wrist. And 'yawed' my steed in to the blazingdesert.

---

I traveled for at least four days to reach the harbor city. My supplies was low on the fifth day. But I did not worry since I had traveled this road before and knew that a friendly Nubian village was nearby.

It was when the sun had become a burning demon in the sky, that I beheld the village from a sand dune. It was small compared to Akkad and Khemet made of, at least seventy huts. Each hut was crafted of clay and sticks, their livestock was kept in primitive pens. The locals were all dressed in humble tunics, leather skirts, a few worebattle beads, few had animal hides on their backs and battle scars on their cheeks.

When I rode in to the village, I was stared at by many. Women and children stopped what they were doing to stare. It was as if they had never had seen an Akkadian before. But I also noticed something.

How few the people seemed to be here. There had to be at least seventy huts, so why did it seem that there was at least twenty locals?

I had rode my steed to the small square when a group of men in loin cloths and battle beads with spears stepped into my way, their faces were hardened, as if ready for battle. One man was wearing a cuirass and breeches of leather and a cape of lion skin. Upon his brow was a braided leather cording. In his hand was a long, fine spear. He stepped foreword, his eyes unblinking as he surveyed me.

"I am the Chief of this village," He said, his head high, his voice carrying authority.

I took a deep breath. I hadn't been in this village for a few seconds and already I was running into trouble.

"Are you an Akkadian?" He asked suddenly.

This question caught me off guard.

"Yes," I replied, raising an eye brow. "I'm here to get supplies on my quest."

Why did they want to know if I was an Akkadian?

The other warriors suddenly raised their spears in a sign of peace. I noticed that their, faces relaxed.

"What is the meaning of this?" I asked.

"Our shaman prophesied that you would come on your way in your quest," The Village Chief spoke.

I had to raise an eyebrow at that.

"Come again?" I asked.

The Village Chief seemed to of not heard me.

"The Blind Shaman wishes that you visit his hut, Akkadian," The Village Chief spoke. "Please follow me."

He motioned me to follow with the wave of his hand. And I did so, trying to register what was happening.

It was at least twenty paces down a row of huts that we finally stopped. It was a little bigger hut than all the other's, wispy smoke coming from it's top.

I dismounted my horse and tied it to the hitching post and followed the Village Chief into the hut.

As soon as I entered the hut I was overcame by the strong earthy scent of herbs and burning wood. Hides of all kinds of animals from near and far hung on the walls. Strange dried plants hung from the ceiling. Several small cushions of leathers sat around the fire that burned in the center of the hut. And in front of the fire sat a figure in a worn cloak it's hood drawn, in his hand was a staff, decorated with feathers and leather cords, on it's top was a falcon's skull.

"I have brought him as you asked, Shaman," Spoke the Village Chief, at my right, to the figure.

"I thank you, Rah-Nok" Spoke the figure in a deep distinct voice. "Now, please, leave us. I wish to speak with this man alone."

The Chief nodded and left, so it was just me and the Shaman.

The Figure rose and spoke to me, "Mathayus, the last time I saw you, you were a boy who wished to become a warrior. Now you're a warrior who wished to save the village that rased that boy."

I raised and eyebrow.

"Who are you?" I asked.

A pair of wrinkled hands went to the hood of the warn cloak and pulled it back to reveal the Shaman's face.

His hair was night black, flecked with a steely gray. His eye's where cloudier than a night before a storm. His face was worn with several wrinkles.

It took my a second to recognize this man from my childhood.

"Inactic?" I asked, unsure.

The man's face broke into a smile.

"Ah! So you do remember me," He said.

"Well, who could forget when you helped my save Jesup from becoming a monster, or when you helped us save the tribe."

Inactic started laughed at that.

"Yes, you never did have a normal childhood did you?"

I shook my head.

"Please Mathayus, sit down, and let's talk," He said motioning to one of the cushions.

I walked over to one and sat down, he sat downacross fromme.

And for awhile that's what we did. Herelivedto me all of his adventures after leaving Akkad, and I told him of what had happened to Jesup, Rama, Karatas, and I, or at least for a short while.

The guilt of what happened overcame me.

There was a moment of silence between us old friends. Then Inactic spoke.

"I know what happened to Akkad, Mathayus, and about the sorcerer Magus."

I looked to him.

"You know?" I asked.

He nodded, standing up.

"Come with me," He said. "There is something you need to see, before you set off."

I stood up and followed him out of his hut. We walked several paces to the hut that was not far from his own. It was a little bigger than his, I noticed.

Inactic stopped at the door and turned to me.

"Through this door, you will see things that you may wish to forget," He advised.

I nodded.

Taking a deep breath he went in to the hut, and I followed him.

---

The hut was dark, and the second I breathed in I could smell the moldy, stale smell of death.

It took a few seconds for my eye to adjust to the light. Once they did I saw it.

Nubian warriors, some men, women and children laid on pallets of animal hides shaking as if cold, sweating as if hot, and eyes closed as if unconscious.

I turned to Inactic.

"One day a young warrior, one of the Chief's sons, came back from his lion hunt with the story of a Sorcerer who made him fight a horrible beast," Inactic spoke quietly. "The Sorcerer made an offer of the world, and the warrior refused."

He turned to me.

"That was six weeks ago, now he lies over there," Inactic said pointing to the pallet in the corner.

I looked to the man, he looked more skeletal than the rest of the men and women here.

"Can you cure them?" I asked.

Inactic sighed.

"I have tried every potion and elixir that I can come up with, Mathayus," Inactic replied softly. "This is power beyond my own."

I looked back to the many sick Nubians.

"It was a week after, while I was fire gazing that I saw who and where the sorcerer would strike again."

Suddenly, I understood who this Sorcerer was.

"Magus," I spoke.

Inactic nodded.

"I knew that Akkad would be next and went to warn King Urmhet when I myself fell ill," Inactic said.

I turned to him.

"So you weren't able to warn us?" I said.

Inactic nodded.

"My illness was short, but, after hearing reports of smoke coming from the Akkadian valley I knew I was too late," Inactic said sadly.

I nodded, understanding his greif.

Inactic took a deep breath and said, "It's not just your tribe who has suffered by the hand of Magus, Mathayus. Almost every other tribe that I have heard of is suffering."

Inactic lead me out of the hut and out into the harsh sunlight that I had to blink several times to get my eyes adjusted to. Images of the sick still fresh in my mind.

"So I am the only one who can stop Magus?" I asked.

"It's appears so, my old friend, it appears so."

---

I stayed the night in the village so my horse could rest and so I could help some of the sick howeverI could.

The next morning I went to my horse with fresh supplies, my weapons sharpened and well rested. Yet I felt as if the weight of the world where on my unworthy shoulders.

Inactic came out of his hut as I mounted my horse.

"Mathayus, there is a message that you will receive from a prophet sometime soon," He said. "The message is one you must hear."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Nice to see you still as vague as you where when I was a child," I told him.

He smiled.

"Just be careful," Inactic said. "So much depends on you now."

"So I've noticed, old friend," I replied. "So I've noticed."

And I yawed my steed in the direction of the harbor city of Babylon.