THE CHRONICLES OF DAGAD TRIKON
Instalment 8
He asked in a strangled voice, “My lords, are you seeing what I see?”
The wizard did not respond. He grabbed the small binoculars from his pocket and adjusted them. But Lidholon was another Yuva platoon fighter with excellent sight. He noted that all the party was wearing the grayish armors of the troopers of Hangker, with the exception of the tallest man on the left who was draped in a large violet robe. The silhouette next to him was shorter and wearing the long tunic that was worn by the dignitaries of Dagad Trikon.
“What are you seeing, children?” asked the wizard in a whisper.
The son of the Nizam exclaimed in a horrified tone. “Oh my God, no, it is not possible.”
Etakir could not speak.
The wizard swifly replaced the binoculars in the ample pocket of his mantle. Grabbing the two yuvas by the shoulders, he pulled them hastily away from the window.
“Step back. Don’t talk. He sensed my presence now. He is here, hardly two hundred meters away. We have reached that moment at last. Everything is clear now. As I trained my sight on him he started to stare in our direction. Agnorth, please engage the locking mechanism to seal the window. Ah, I feel his attention is here but he won’t be able to follow us. The vibrations of the Sao Iambu will stop him and cleanse the air. Come with me to my room.”
And without paying further attention to his shaken companions, the wizard left the Chamber of Healing and walked briskly down the faintly lit small vaulted tunnel that went down a flight of stairs to his apartment. They hurriedly crossed his study that bathed in the glow emitted from the ceiling. The windows had disappeared. The view of the valley below was now blocked by large stones that fitted the opening of the windows so perfectly that it was impossible to distinguish the shape of the window from the wall. They entered the bed chamber. The room was Spartan, decorated by only two wall-hangings. One was a lovely painting depicting a beautiful lady dressed in red sitting on a tiger against a background of snowy mountains. Etakir thought it was a representation of the Lady of the Rock, but not portrayed with the Dagad Trikon landscape. The other hanging, above the head of the bed, was a white towel that carried the ochre imprints of two delicate feet. Standing before the bed, the wizard told the two yuva bowmen, “Stretch your hands towards the footprints of the Goddess. She stood on this towel after a Pujan festival and I kept it. Feel the power; it will bring back some peace in you. Just now, try to forget what you saw.”
Still in shock, the two friends stretched their hands towards the towel hanging on the wall of the bed chamber. They stood there for a while. Lidholon was chasing away images, fighting tears in his eyes and started relaxing only when he felt a steady stream of cool vibrations flowing from the towel into his hands. This gift of energy, this sign of living protection from the sovereign Lady of the Rock brought back some serenity. He opened his eyes and noted that the expression of pain and disgust that had distorted Etakir’s face a few minutes ago had been washed away.
The wizard sat on the bed and they sat cross-legged on the carpet at his feet. His voice was low but resolute.
“The silhouette draped in a violet mantle is Belzebseth, the chief sorcerer of the Dark Council recently brought in on a giant purple lizard. He is close to realizing his dream, hunting down the highlander of Dagad Trikon in his lair. He senses the prize – the magic library of the Avasthas he always wanted – is within his grasp.” Looking at Lidholon, again restless, he interrupted himself. “You may speak now.”
Lidholon burst out vehemently, “Master, it was Uncle Serapis by his side. I recognized him, I recognized the colors of the coat of arms of Shambalpur on his tunic; and his long black beard. He was chatting with the violet sorcerer, looking on quite friendly terms, I’d say.”
The yuva warriors were bitter and angry, staring in sheer disbelief at the wizard. Serapis Sernatil, seneschal of the lowlands and governor of Shambalpur was the second highest officer in the government of the Avasthas after the Nizam.
“It is true, I recognized him as well,” pointed out Etakir with sheer disgust. “The presence of Belzebseth is dark tidings, no doubt, but it is seeing one of our high lords next to him that made me shiver from head to foot. Aren’t you shocked, master, or had you foreseen this too?”
coming soon : instalment 9 (stay tuned)