I apologise in advance for nothing really going on in this chapter, but it had to be done anyway. I promise chapter 8 will be more interesting! Also, in reply to the guest, (thank you for reviewing) sorry about not updating very often, but this story has to be balanced with school and revision, and if I'm not happy with a chapter I won't upload it until I am satisfied.
Jakhan stripped the flesh off the deer and constructed a small spit over some dry twigs he had prepared, ramming chunks of meat onto it. He sat down, rubbing two small flints together and creating a spark that set the twigs alight. While it may attract potential pursuers, Jakhan and his brother desperately needed to eat and they would have a much greater chance of reaching Sarashak on a full stomach.
Kaldros's pained laughter had died down, and while Jakhan was disturbed and annoyed at what his twin had said, he was ashamed of himself – he had lost control so easily, almost killing the smaller boy in his fit of violent rage. Kaldros obviously hadn't recovered properly from his trauma, mentally or physically, and Jakhan thought that he couldn't really be held accountable for his actions. He could feel his brother's gaze boring into his back and felt extremely guilty about choking Kaldros.
"Dad really did love you, you know?" Jakhan said suddenly, trying to break the tension building between the twins. He quickly turned around as he heard a whimper coming from his brother – Kaldros sat with his head pressed into his slender knees, and Jakhan gently pushed his head up, flinching slightly as he saw the size of the ugly purple bruise on his sibling's throat. Jakhan winced as his smaller brother shuddered as he touched him, realising the amount of damage that he had done in his rage.
Tears cascading down his face and rolling onto the snow, Kaldros cried, the day's woes finally catching up with him and unable to keep up his façade.
"I...I kn-know," he stuttered, the words causing him pain as he continued, "I was just blinded by my own hatred, I couldn't accept him. And now he's dead!" He yelled, "I never got to tell him..."
Jakhan was startled by Kaldros's sudden change in attitude towards his father, realising that Kaldros's hatred was just a product of the years of neglect and would have simmered down had they all survived the battle.
"I bet you hate me, don't you? Your weak little twin brother. Without me, mum would still be alive and dad would never have gone like he did. I wouldn't blame you. I ruined his life, and now I've ruined yours as well. I don't deserve to exist in this world."
Now it was Jakhan's turn to chuckle, and he pulled Kaldros forwards into a bone-crushing hug, trying to ignore his brother's frightened shivering.
"You are always so melodramatic, you mages!" he laughed, "I could never hate you. You're like a part of me. Now lets get something to eat, I'm starving!"
.*.*.*.
Ethlashi spat onto the ground, the acidic saliva melting a stunted plant that slowly keeled over and died. She glared at the creatures stood in front of her, trying to avoid her murderous gaze and flinching whenever it passed over them – the serpentine naga wondering why perfectly fine apes had ever decided to regress into these disgusting beings that mocked all other sentient creatures simply by existing.
Ethlashi herself was an aberration in the ruling class of the Sultai, the naga covered with sapphire scales that contrasted deeply with the few pieces of clothing she wore – the bright green silk hurt the eyes of those that looked at it and was connected to chains of shining gold that snaked across her upper body. The naga's tail coiled behind her and occasionally stabbed forwards to illustrate her words. The tip was covered with an extremely lethal poison that caused the victim's mind to produce powerful and agonising hallucinations that she enjoyed inflicting upon humans when she couldn't be bothered to waste her powerful magic on them.
She analysed each one in turn, each of the three captains petrified and haughty at the same time: Wercas, was an effective but ultimately stupid general favouring Green mana that had little talent for the schemes and plots of Sultai politics – it made him a good warrior but prevented him from rising in the ranks and made him more expendable.
Dethara was swathed in expensive fabrics and gold, the woman's display of wealth only seeming to make her weaker in the eyes of Ethlashi – why try so hard to show something and not let one's reputation speak for itself? Dethara professed to be a master of arcane and powerful spells of Blue and Black mana but the naga knew that the woman had only scratched the surface of true power. She looked down at the two other captains, seeing herself to be superior. Oh how humans were idiotic creatures!
The last captain, an extremely ambitious human named Nazek that used only Black mana, was an irritating worm that constantly tried to curry Ethlashi's favour – the naga loved to pretend she was honouring him as crushed dreams were her favourite pleasure, and subtly influenced his mind to make him believe that she was favouring him.
Ethlashi scowled, she hated dealing with these repulsive creatures but the humans were apparently the most influential of their kind in the Sultai after Taigam and Kirada and commanded huge legions of undead each – larger than Ethlashi's own collection but nowhere near as potent, the naga experimenting on her own creations with numerous dark magics that would disgust even some members of her own clan.
She would have preferred to simply kill the humans and incorporate their undead into her own army, but needed the separate directing forces to fully conquer the Mardu territory on which she now stood (or rather, slithered) – the traitor had done his job well, sending the majority of the warriors into Temur territory and opening up the clan's land for the taking, and the Sultai were never ones to pass up an opportunity for more power and wealth.
"I trust you understand your orders?" she hissed venomously, and the humans quickly nodded and turned away, glaring at one another as they went to rouse their own legions.
.*.*.*.
The grey city loomed on the horizon, and while it wasn't as intimidating as an Abzan fortress, Jakhan was still awed by it as he had never seen such a large dwelling in his whole life, the Mardu rarely establishing permanent settlements.
While they were eating, Kaldros had fallen into a fitful slumber and Jakhan had rested for a short while before carrying his twin once again on his back. The younger twin sometimes twitched unexpectedly, and Jakhan had no idea of what was going on in his mind or what was affecting him.
The gates of Sarashak were always open to anyone in Tarkir (although the Temur and Mardu rarely, if ever, visited), the neutral city protected by its own soldiers and numerous clan warriors, most from the Abzan or Jeskai who utilised the unowned territory to trade exclusive goods often.
Jakhan walked closer to the gates, the huge slabs of granite forming the walls next to it often imposing enough to deter potential attackers without even seeing the archers stationed there, the grey tunics worn by them camouflaging the warriors, blending into the walls from long distances away.
The Mardu was bone-tired, and as he trudged slowly through the gates some guards turned to look at him but quickly dismissed as not being a threat. On any other day, Jakhan would have railed against any insult to his martial proud, but right now he didn't care – all he wanted was somewhere to stay and rest.
It was late afternoon, the long trek through the forest without much rest exhausting him beyond belief. He paid little attention to the curious glances the many citizens paid him – it was strange to see a Mardu clan member in Sarashak – and scanned buildings nearby, thinking it would be logical to have a place to rest near the gateway. It started to rain, water spilling from the heavens and soaking the twins as Jakhan looked for a place to stay.
He spotted a sign hanging from the side of a tall stone structure – it showed a wooden bed, and Jakhan thought Kaldros would have been amused by the simplicity of it. Turning round to the entrance of the building, Jakhan noticed the faded lettering above him but didn't know what it said. Most Mardu did not know how to read, the practice being deemed an unnecessary waste of time when it did not directly impact with combat or warfare.
Many of the shamans knew how to read, as learning magic was an important part of becoming a mage – Kaldros had tried to teach his brother, and as such Jakhan knew the very basic rudiments of it, but his twin had become impatient and frustrated with him, refusing to carry on his lessons.
Jakhan pushed the heavy wooden door open, glad to be out of the pouring rain. The first thing he noticed was the huge, roaring fire blazing mesmerizingly at the edge of the large entrance room, many other travellers sat in front of it. He recognised the scale armour of the Abzan in the clothing of a small group of tanned soldiers sat around a low table, drinking and laughing with each other.
Kaldros murmured something incomprehensible as Jakhan paced across to the counter at the far end of the room that was flanked by two large staircases. He assumed they were for getting to the rooms, and as he came closer a short, hunched man with a scar sealing his left eye shut spoke at him with a gruff voice
"A room for two costs 50 Azrai or its equivalent in gold," Jakhan stopped dead in his tracks, a mortified look on his face. He hadn't thought of that – after all they'd been through, he had just automatically assumed that Sarashak would mean safety, and so not considered the fact that he would actually have to pay.
"I...I," he stuttered, and the innkeeper scowled back, "Pay up or get out,"
Jakhan fell to his knees, exhaustion preventing his movements and the man motioned to two guards. As they hoisted him up, a strangely accented voice rang out.
"Stop. I shall pay for them – I'll buy the room next to ours," a medium sized, shaven-headed man wearing a simple light blue robe that outwardly showed nothing out of the ordinary stepped forwards, holding out a sack containing some coins.
As Jakhan looked at him, he noticed the Eye of the Dragon tattooed in the middle of the man's forehead, and the Jeskai smiled back at the youth's look of surprise. He had a unscarred face slightly crumpled by a few wrinkles, but his deep blue eyes showed an age far beyond that of his physical appearance. He paced towards the innkeeper's desk, each movement perfectly balanced and moderated – Jakhan could tell that the Jeskai was a warrior, although he carried no obvious weapons.
"Meja, Arethe, take the boy off him and get him something to eat please," at their master's call, two adolescents stood up from their seats and moved towards Jakhan, one tall girl with long brown hair and calm green eyes, the other a muscular, frowning boy with a shaven head and piercing blue eyes.
The male moved at Jakhan, holding his hands out and glowering at the Mardu, who moved away instinctively, tensing with an automatic need to protect his comatose twin. The boy sighed and went to grab Kaldros as Jakhan growled and grabbed the other boy's arms, his twin slipping off him and landing on the floor.
"Meja, let me handle this, go buy some food," a soothing female voice spoke, the girl moving up and placing a soft hand on Jakhan's arm. The Mardu relaxed as the calming Blue and White mana flowed through his body, the Jeskai who must have been Arethe standing next to him and smiling into his eyes. Meja scowled and turned away, moving into another room.
"I promise we won't hurt him. You have been through a lot and need to rest now. We will take care of him. Okay?" she asked and went to pick up the fallen Kaldros, the young mage still showing no signs of stirring from his slumber.
As soon as Arethe's hand touched Kaldros, she jumped back, instantly alert.
"What's wrong?" Jakhan asked urgently, his concern for his twin overriding the need for rest.
"Nothing. I just sensed something familiar," said Arethe, a melancholy and distracted look in her eyes that disappeared the instant Jakhan noticed it.
"We'll take him up to the room, then you can come back down and have something to eat!" she laughed enthusiastically, although the Mardu knew she was hiding something – Kaldros himself acted like that when he wanted to conceal information from his brother, and Jakhan decided not to press the issue. The Jeskai had been kind to him and his twin, and he would not waste that.
"Sit down," she ordered, pushing Jakhan towards a chair and then picking up Kaldros easily and carrying him towards the stairs.
Jakhan watched her go, seeing her shapely body sway slightly as she held his brother. He was drawn to the curve of her hips, when he heard an amused chuckle from behind him.
He turned, his cheeks flaring up almost imperceptibly in embarrassment as the older Jeskai, probably their master or teacher, smiled back at him again.
"My name is Shintan – I am a Jeskai, as you may have already worked out. I would like to know your name before you propose to Arethe there."
Jakhan's face went bright red and he pouted sulkily, Shintan sniggering with mirth.
"I'm Jakhan. My twin is called Kaldros," he muttered and the Jeskai blinked in surprise.
"Twin? I thought the boy was at least three years younger than you!" he exclaimed, "How old are you both?"
"Fourteen two months ago," Jakhan replied.
"So young..." Shintan murmured sadly, but before Jakhan had a chance to ask what he meant, a metal bowl containing delicious looking food was slammed down in front of him.
"Master, why do we help these Mardu savages? We are training to be warriors, we should be killing the barbarians, not nursing them!" Meja shouted at them, a small waiter carrying some drinks quickly placing them on the table and scampering off.
Jakhan stiffened at the Jeskai's insults but refused to rise to the obvious bait, instead ignoring him and focussing on the steaming bowl of fish in front of him. That only incensed Meja further, the youth grabbing Jakhan's shoulder and turning the Mardu to face him.
"You need to learn to control your anger if you are to become a proper warrior," Shintan admonished sternly, and Meja released Jakhan, who was breathing heavily and doing exactly that. The angry Jeskai student gazed angrily at his master who looked calmly back. Meja snarled and left the table, pushing the door to the outside open and slamming it shut when he exited.
"What's his problem?" Jakhan growled, letting his body relax, not realising how tense he had become during the altercation.
"His family and village were slaughtered by Mardu raiders," Shintan stated simply.
"Oh.." Jakhan replied, and he was interrupted by the Jeskai as he was about to speak again.
"Do not apologise, young Jakhan, you are not responsible for the actions of your clan," the master cut in, "Meja and Arethe were the only survivors, both hidden by their parents in concealment magic. I found them when I visited the ruins of the village the day after, and decided to raise them as my own and teach them in the way of the Jeskai."
"Meja is just at that age, sixteen if you were wondering, that teenagers naturally rebel – you are an easy target for his rage, belonging to the clan that murdered both his and Arethe's families."
Jakhan stood up from the table, his meal finished, and bowed before Shintan.
"Thank you for your kindness, we would have had to sleep on the streets without you," Jakhan said to the grinning Shintan.
"Don't mention it. Now go get some rest. I'll see if I can help Kaldros tomorrow. You two certainly seem close just from the way that you act."
Jakhan turned and walked up the stairs, almost colliding with Arethe at the top as she started to come down.
The girl grinned, handing him a key and pointing at a room at the western side.
"Yours is there, I've left a change of clothes on the rack, one for you and another for your brother – guess which is which. There is a bathhouse next to the inn, you can go get washed in the evening tomorrow after dinner. Breakfast is served all through the morning," she explained, looking back and becoming concerned at Jakhan's downcast expression.
"Arethe, I-" he started to say, but the Jeskai placed a finger on his lips.
"I know. It's not your fault, and I don't blame you for it. Just ignore whatever Meja says, he'll get over it soon." With that she elegantly brushed past him and descended the stairs.
Jakhan pushed open the door to his room, a simple but cosy chamber with a couple of padded chairs, a clothing rack with two simple outfits and a painting of some local lake. A wooden table was on the side of each bed, one with a slowly burning lamp. There was another door, presumably going into a bathroom of some form.
The centre of the space was take up by two touching beds, one already occupied by Jakhan's afflicted brother, the thin boy whimpering quietly, Jakhan feeling guilty as he noticed the purple bruise on his throat. Jakhan pulled off his bloodstained clothing, touching his chest and tensing as he ran his fingers over the wound there.
He climbed into the bed adjacent to Kaldros, quietly snuffing out the lamp, although there was no chance of him waking his twin. He reached over and squeezed Kaldros's hand, whispering:
"Good night, little brother."