The Search for a Legend (Book 1 of Quest for Knowledge) - Christopher Jackson-Ash (free books to read txt) 📗

fat. He wore extravagant clothes in bright colours and was adorned with jewellery. Every podgy finger displayed a huge ring. Around his neck hung a large gold medallion. From his ears dangled exquisite diamonds. His greasy grey hair was hidden under a black cap with gold and silver inlay. When he smiled, his teeth were all flashy gold. Simon estimated his age at fifty to fifty-five. Three beautiful young girls, no more than teenagers, dressed in plain grey clothes fawned around him. His voice was pompous and booming.

 

“I am Lord Velacourt. I represent the combined might of the three great City States of Makkah, Kartage, and Al Damman. My caravan, with forty armed men, travelled the Great South Road and we saw little to concern us on our way to Ur and then to Elannort. I am here on the orders of my Masters but I must tell you that we care nothing for the affairs of dwarves or elves, and little for those who choose to live in ice and snow when spring is a little late. Our City States are rich and strong. We fear no one.”

 

He was in the process of manoeuvring his large bulk back into his seat when the heavy oak doors to the chamber swung open. A man rushed in, dressed in purple garb of a military style. He was tall and slim. His face was clean-shaven and his light brown hair clipped short. He was, thought Simon, perhaps twenty-five and very handsome. Velacourt sprang back to his feet with a loud grunt. “How dare you enter the meeting? Speak not one word or I shall have you flogged and dragged back to Kartage in chains behind my caravan!” Beads of sweat were forming on Velacourt’s face, which had flushed bright red.

 

The soldier blanched but otherwise disregarded the threat. “Forgive me, Great Sage, I cannot stand idle while the Lord Velacourt ignores the reality of the situation. I beg leave of the meeting to speak of what I know.” He bowed low to Manfred and waited for a response.

 

Velacourt was now close to apoplexy. “You will rue the day you crossed me, Aglaral. Your life is forfeit. Your family will be stripped of everything it owns and they will wish they had joined you in the afterlife. Be gone from my sight. You are an abomination to the army you swore to serve.”

 

Manfred rose and was again clothed in blue fury. “Sit down, Velacourt! Captain Aglaral you shall have the protection of the Wise and leave to tell us what you know. Fear not the threats of Lord Velacourt, for he and I shall have words ere this day is done.”

 

Velacourt sat down, but his mouth was foaming and his piggy eyes blazed with hatred and fury. Wow, this is better than Neighbours. His handmaidens fussed over him, but he brushed them angrily away. He probably wants to storm out, but needs to hear what Aglaral has to say.

 

Captain Aglaral gave a nervous cough and began to speak. His voice was quiet at first, but became louder as his confidence grew. He spoke in a clear, well-educated tone. It seemed that he had rehearsed what he wanted to say. “Lord Velacourt would have you believe that all is well in the City States and that we have the strength to meet any threats. It is not so. There is much public unrest in all three cities. While the rich merchants and noblemen get richer, the poor are starving. The unrest is becoming physical. More and more, the army is being forced to take up arms against its own citizens. If nothing is done, there will be civil war and chaos. But that is not the greatest of our worries. We are protected from the south by the Great Southern Desert. It would be a strong army indeed that could cross that vast expanse and still be in a fit state to fight. To the north, with all due respect, there is nothing for us to fear. Although the news from Tamarlan is concerning. To the east lies the Sea of Destiny. Our navy is strong and we have no reason to fear an attack by sea. We have a strong, friendly relationship with the city of Ur and most of our trade is undertaken by camel caravan along the Spice Road to Hamadan and beyond.” Simon glanced at Jhamed’s map to try to understand the geography. There was something about Aglaral that immediately struck him. He’s a man of honour and integrity. I like him. I hope I can get to know him.

 

Aglaral was gaining confidence even though Lord Velacourt seemed to be shooting daggers from the piggy eyes set in his still flushed face. The fat man fidgeted with indecision, torn between watching Aglaral and looking at Manfred, who he clearly feared. “It is to the west that we must look with fear. Few have taken the Great West Road from Kartage or the southern track from Makkah. Fewer still have passed beyond the Crossroads of Hell. To the south of that crossroads lies interminable heat and sand for as far as any have ever travelled. To the west are the Unknown Lands. It is said that only the Wise know what lies there. We have a small garrison posted at the Crossroads of Hell. It is our least favoured posting, but at any rate, we are not putting down riots there. We are forbidden to travel any further west. For as long as any can remember no one has ever entered our lands from the west. Recently, people have begun to arrive. At first, it was a trickle, but lately it has become a flood. Most of them are half-dead. Some have horses or camels, a few have wagons, but most travel on blistered feet carrying all of their meagre possessions on their backs. They all tell the same story. They are refugees. They are fleeing hell on earth. They are seeking help and a new secure life. We should be able to help them and accommodate them in our cities. But they have darker skins than we do. And they believe in a different god. Many of us feel threatened by them. So we have built a camp on the shores of the Sea of Blood. They are held there like prisoners. Many have died, through despair. I can no longer keep silent about the shame I feel for the way we are treating them.” He paused for a moment. Simon saw the tears in his eyes. Velacourt was now sitting with his head bowed.

 

“I have been posted to the Crossroads of Hell,” the officer went on. “I have spoken with many of the refugees. I’m ashamed to say that I have interrogated them. Their story is clear and corroborated. The Dark God is risen again. He commands an army of men and things, which as I have heard described, I can only name as being fell creatures out of a child’s nightmare. They conquer all before them and move relentlessly eastwards. They will be at our borders in a matter of weeks or months. We will not be able to resist them for long, though we all die trying.”

 

Aglaral paused again and looked around the room. All eyes except Velacourt’s were fixed on him. “There is one more thing. Many of the refugees have reported things they have heard about the enemy. They all agree. The Dark God has but one objective. He seeks to take Elannort and destroy the Wizards’ Keep.”

 

A sombre mood again filled the room. Velacourt remained with eyes downcast. Manfred gestured to Aglaral and he took a seat not far from Simon and Jhamed. He’s a brave man. I wish I had his bravery. This great adventure may not be so much fun after all. I’m scared. Simon shivered and goose bumps again welled up along both his arms and legs.

 

There remained just two men still to speak. The first to rise was a short man, just over five feet tall. He was dressed in simple white clothes – the closest description that came to Simon’s mind was shorts and tee shirt. Looks like he’s ready for a day at the beach. He was bald. More than that, Simon realised, he seemed to have no body hair whatsoever – no eyebrows, no beard, and no hair on his arms or legs. I wonder whether... Stop it! He was the whitest person Simon had ever seen. He makes me look positively tanned.

 

“My name is Kris,” the man introduced himself. “I am a bard from Karo. I travel with trading expeditions or on other journeys to provide entertainment. I have sailed westward on the Sea of Blood and have seen the strange lands where the dark-skinned ones come from. I have learned some of their stories. I can play many musical instruments. I know many songs. I come from a long line of bards. My ancestors have told stories for generations. I hold in my head the great stories that have been passed down through the ages. I am here because I heard from my patron that this meeting was taking place. He intimated that it did not concern Karo, but I felt otherwise. I offer my stories in the hope that I might help your cause. I seek little in return, food and a bed and perhaps the odd pitcher of ale to keep the vocal chords lubricated. With your leave, my Sage, I shall demonstrate my craft.” Manfred gestured that he should continue. Simon shuffled in his seat. He was starting to get uncomfortable, but he wanted to hear more.

 

“When the Great Evil was unleashed, it fled into the Northland, uncertain of its purpose and without form. There it cowered for millennia, cursing its creator, for it knew only misery, hate, and sorrow. One day it came across a caravan of humans, who were also lost and wandering without purpose. The Evil recognised their pain and sought to help them, either for its own ends or because it had suffered so much pain itself. It took a form similar to the largest and strongest of the men and made itself known to the group. It used its power to feed them well from their meagre rations. It found water in the desert and turned it into wine. It healed their sick. In return, the humans began to worship it as a god. The Great Evil, now in human form, began to enjoy its power. It craved human attention and worship. It led the small, lost group back to the cities. They began to spread His message. His followers grew quickly in number and He rewarded them with wealth and power. They gave Him a name and the name was Gadiel, meaning God is my wealth. As His followers grew wealthier, they began to crave more and greater power and wealth. They set themselves to conquer and rule others. In order to do so, they needed great power in battle. They fought in the name of Gadiel. They beseeched their god to use His great powers to smite down their enemies. Every time they invested their beliefs in Him, He grew more powerful.” Simon was entranced by the strange, pale, hairless man. His story captured Simon’s imagination. He’s not a bad story teller. I want to hear more.

 

“As one of the three races, humans have great powers but they are often unaware of them. They have the power to create gods. In Gadiel, they created the Dark God. Gadiel’s followers used great cruelty and terror to subdue their enemies. With each conquest, their methods became darker and sicker. Young boys were castrated. Young women were raped and used as sex toys. Older women were forced to work as slaves. Men were ruthlessly killed in ever more barbaric ways. Torture was commonplace. They sought to maximise a person’s pain and drag out a death for as long as