The Pass

It was early morning on their twelfth day of travel when the envoys from Al-Ador finally crossed into the lands of the Kingdom of Brydd.  It was a stark difference of climate, going from the arid environs of Draavos into these comparatively humid climes.  A thick morning fog flowed through the final leg of the mountain pass, and one could feel moisture in its multitudes of tiny droplets upon one's skin.  This place was so rife with water that it even clung to the air itself, dancing as though to taunt the dwellers of the desert.  

The Bryddians did not understand how wealthy they were, by merely having water exist everywhere throughout their lands.  In Draavos, life could only exist at Oases, rare and precious as pearls in the sea.  Nomadic tribes could only just survive the trek from water-source to water-source.  The air in Draavos robbed you of your water.  The sun baked it out of you.  And the hardy creatures of the desert hunted you, anxious to drink whatever remained from your veins and arteries.  Everything about Draavos denied life.  When life endured there, it was in stark opposition to nature.  

Here, in Brydd, life almost couldn't help itself.   It could already be seen, dimly through the fog:   Green fields and verdant pastures.  Morning birds singing their songs.  Flowers blooming in anticipation of the morning sun.  Flowers which hadn't been carefully cultivated and nurtured, an art Zaiden's sister had perfected in the terraced noble gardens of Al-Ador. 

No... here the flowers sprung up of their own volition.  Without aid.  The entire country was a garden.

A garden which few from Al-Ador had tread upon since the war fifty years ago.  Draavosian traders sometimes came this way, carrying their exotic wares from a land which few in Brydd dared to enter.  But almost no officials.  Three months ago, a messenger had been sent with a proposal writ on parchment.  This expedition was the fruit of that proposal.  A diplomatic mission for peace, for prosperity, and to honor the great Bryddian Kingdom on the occasion of its anniversary celebration.

Six common servants accompanied the diplomatic train of camels.  Servants who would carry gear, clean, cook, and perform other petty tasks.  They might fight if called upon to do so, but were just as likely to run.  One warrior rode as general security, ensuring their encampments were safe from common thieves.  He was a large figure who carried a huge falchion, and his job was as much to look menacing as it was to actually do battle.   

There was one elite agent, known as a Shaytan Alraml.  The 'Sand Devil' was assigned as personal bodyguard and operative to these pyromancers of Al-Ador, for they were the city-state's greatest resource, worth more than gold or jewels.  It was said that he could kill any five soldiers in direct combat, or a hundred while they slept.  Whether this was an exaggeration or not, only time and experience could tell.

And then there were the Envoys of Al-Ador.  Twin siblings, and the most accomplished pyromancers to come out of the great city.  Zaiden ibn Azak, and his sister Zara bint Mazul.  They had literally been born to undertake this mission, and much rested on their shoulders.  This mission was a plot decades in the making.  Their grandfather, the Raj, was an old man.  If this mission failed, he would not live long enough to make a follow-up attempt.

Up ahead, a knight mounted on a great horned sheep came onto the road before them.  They had seen these figures for the past two days, guarding the pass from cliffs and mountainsides that overlooked it.  This was the first time they had been approached directly.

"Ho There!"  The figure called out, holding a spear high, "I am Sir Lardin, a Knight of Mindolin, Captain of the Mountain Guard.   I would know who you people are, and what business you have in Brydd."

Darklingfae
@[Longshot]

Akris Maleos spurred his mount along the small caravan. He reined up to the camels carrying the twins and caught their eyes from their vantage point.

"Stay in place in the caravan...give no commands..." He said quietly, then turned and spurred on up the road, coming up alongside the single warrior who faced the armored rider a short distance away. Akris had already drawn his blade but had rotated it to rest across his arm in a non-threatening but accessible manner.

"Diplomatic Envoys from Al-Ador...Journeying to meet your King! We possess neither the numbers nor the weapons to threaten your kingdom. Our purpose is peaceful!" Akris kept it short and simple, as was his style. Let the Heralds and Courtiers charm with their honey words...

All that Zara knew of Brydd was what had been taught in the books and through stories of their elders. Nothing could have prepared her for such wealth. Everywhere she looked out upon the land of Brydd there was massive green for meters upon meters. All the thick foliage and bright colored flowers were just littered everywhere. There wasn’t a place she could see that wasn’t green and colorful.

Even the air was full of wealth. She was sure that all she had to do was reach out so she could cup a handful of water and drink from the air itself. Her skin glistened and glowed with the moisture all around her. The entire country beyond the mountain pass was the exact opposite of her home. Where lushness filled every nook and cranny in Brydd, her home had a vastness of nothing, where a person could just see for miles and miles of sand, and feel the heat beating down upon them as if trying to transform them into nothing but sand, as well.  The Pyromancers didn’t suffer the heat themselves, but at home they could see it wither everyone around them.

Every green leaf here, every bright petal just cemented the hate and rage that forever roiled around inside of her. It just made her inner fire intensify. Why did a country with such wealth need to prey upon her home? Why did these wealthy Lords need to tread upon others? To steal from a country that was obviously not a threat, and had made them guests?  It was nothing less than the definition of evil.

Soon, the giant would be felled, the greedy would be poor, and the wealth would be brought back home. Her country would rise, while Brydd fell, crushed to become sand that their future would be built upon.

Soon, very soon.

In the meantime, while on the trek to the Capital of Brydd, Zara opted to detail all the various plants and flowers she could see. There were so many of them, and her fingers itched to make order of the chaos in which they grew.  Alas that was not possible. All she could do was put them into orderly fashion in her book. She hoped to be able to find a library and figure out the names of each of them. Perhaps she could mimic their kind in her own world, it would be a true sign of wealth and prestige if she could do so.

Sketching while on camelback was a challenge, but it was one she had mastered over the days of their travels.  First it had been rare desert blooms.  Lizards.  Landscapes.  Then Mountain flowers and vines.  Now the beautiful growths of Brydd proper.  Zara had just finished one of the sketches when their peaceful trek was rudely interrupted.

“Ho There!"  The figure called out, holding a spear high, "I am Sir Lardin, a Knight of Mindolin, Captain of the Mountain Guard.   I would know who you people are, and what business you have in Brydd."

She stared over at rude male human that dared to show such outwardly and blatant disrespect to their stature and standing. All the rage that boiled inside of her begged to be released. Zara was all too happy to do so. Reaching out with her hands in front of her, she just focused on the man’s head. 

Flames began to grow from her fingers, more and more until she pushed her hands forward and the fire shot over and engulfed the man’s head. Screams of agony spewed forth from the man as the distinct smell of scorched flesh and hair filled the air. The ram, spooked by such a thing, bucked its  rider off, and darted away.

Zara smiled sweetly until the last breath was taken from the man, and he slumped dead onto the ground.

Aghbar’s snort brought Zara out of her daydream, and back to reality. How she wished she could just char the man for his transgressions, but soon he would become sand like the rest. 

Not today. No, today the disrespect was not to be met with fire, it was responded to with honey, sick, sweet honey.

Zara disregarded the instructions of their bodyguard, a dangerous and well-trained member of a mighty and mysterious order of operatives. They had their own magic, and their own secrets. She carefully shut her sketch book and placed it into a pocket inside her robes. She reached over and gently patted Aghbar, whispering into the Camel’s ear and it stopped walking. Slowly Aghbar lowered himself to the ground, and Zara dismounted.

She walked a few steps up to where the man was riding the magnificent ram, conversing with Akris Maleos.  It was a shame the poor ram had been relegated to aid this dung-beetle of a knight. Once in front of the man, she curtsied and swept her robes out, letting the dark red color flutter in the air.

“It is a true honor to meet such a champion of Mindolin, sir. I am Zara bint Mazul, and this is my brother Zaiden ibn Azak. We have been invited to your fine land by your King, for the great tournament and anniversary celebration of your kingdom.”

Zara smiled charmingly up at the man, and leaned closer to whisper to him, “I hope it is not forward of me to ask, but will such a brave and,” her blue eyes gazed over the man’s form, “powerfully endowed man such as you be competing in the tournament?”

Cubanwriter

Longshot

Akris waited for a response from the armored knight when he glimpsed motion down beside his mount. His eyes narrowed as he recognized Zara and watched her proceed to completely ignore his orders. After several seconds, Akris flipped his sword around and slid it back into its scabbard with an angry slamming motion.

Akris flicked a hand to have the soldier beside him also put away his falchion as he crossed his wrists on the saddle horn, watching as she began to charm the guard captain. He took some slow deep breaths. He repeated the mantra he had created recently:

"Sand does not anger...Sand does not care about the shortcomings of others, even the devil nymphs inflicted upon him by people who are obviously Sadists..."

"Stay in place in the caravan...give no commands..."

It was an instruction that Zaiden was quite content to follow. 

The people of Mindolin were almost certain to be the most prickly of all Bryddians in regards to an official visit from Draavos.  It was their March that bore the brunt of the invasion five decades ago.  Zaiden was content to let their anger wash over lowly intermediaries, rather than endure it directly himself.

His sister, however, was not the sort to be reigned in, even for her own good.   

This had every appearance of a legitimate Mindolin operation, but appearances could be deceiving.  Assassins might bribe actual knights of Mindolin to be complicit in their crimes.  Or there could even be a local conspiracy to slay the envoys.  It was proper for the twins' Sand Devil protector to interpose himself.

But of course, Diplomacy was not something that could be done entirely within the safety of a secure perimeter.  At some point, you had to step forward and come face to face with others.  You had to trust that they weren't going to kill you.  Or at least that they would not kill you out in the open.

Zaiden glanced over his shoulder and gestured to one of the servants, "Altamrir."

The servant nodded and dismounted.

Meanwhile, Sir Lardin was looking down at Zara.  "I will indeed have the honor of representing my House in the Tourney, my Lady.  I once won the Copper Amulet in the jousts-"  He stopped in mid-sentence as he realized he was calling her a 'Lady' and treating her as an honored envoy without ever having legitimized her claims, or even her noble status.

"I will need to see official documentation authenticating your claims," the Knight demanded, but at that moment a servant jogged up and held out a scroll case.  

Sir Lardin stuck his spear into the ground, accepted the case, and opened the opulent container.  Removing the end piece, he took out the scroll within.  Balancing the components awkwardly, he read the scroll's contents.  Finally he rolled it back up and re-assembled the scroll-case before handing it back. 

"We have been expecting you," he said at last, "I will escort you to the Blackfort, where you may dine with my Lord and rest in comfort before resuming your journey."

Zaiden rolled his eyes.  Of course they were expecting them.  This was just a finger-poke into the eye from their Mindolin hosts.  A reminder of how well the Draavosi were liked here, and how much power they lacked now that they were in foreign lands.

"The hospitality of Mindolin lives up to its reputation," he observed aloud in the common tongue.

Switching to the dialect of the Draavosi, Zaiden spoke to his sister, "Do not romance that one.  He is not important enough to bother with."

Zaiden shifted his attention to Akris, "Come, Devil.  Let us proceed to see what further insults and inconveniences the Mindolins have waiting for us."

And with that, they were poised to resume their journey deep into the verdant fields of Mindolin, leaving the Mountains behind.

Darklingfae

Longshot

Zara did not need to see her brother to know he was rolling his eyes, these types of diplomatic situations were not his forte nor what piqued his interests. But she knew that to be a true diplomat one had to put aside their own opinions, ideas, and enjoyments. The job of a diplomat was not about a person’s desires, but the desires of their countrymen and homeland. 

Diplomats were weapons, more subtle than a sword, and to be wielded as their grandfather wished. 

The time to be dangerous was not now, though. Like a hunter approaching prey, they had to be unexpected. The diplomat grab and mask was what they needed to wear, and that meant coating themselves in sweetness and playing the submissive part, something her brother did not delight in. 

Zara waited patiently while the servant brought out the official documents that the Knight finally had requested for. This knight wasn’t a total fool. He was a tool though, and one that she would relish in breaking.

Her brother of course put a stop to that thinking, he was in quite the dour mood. The camel trek had not put him in good spirits.

Switching to the dialect of the Draavosi, Zaiden spoke to his sister, "Do not romance that one.  He is not important enough to bother with."

Zara curtsied one last time to the knight, before giving him a shy little smile, “I would very much look forward to hearing stories of your bravery and those of your Lord.”

Then she turned to walk back to Aghbar, a camel she’d owned her entire life, and had bonded with over the years. She would dearly miss him when he passed, a thought she refused to give any weight too. Camels could live for forty years. There was time yet for them both.

As she passed Akris, he made it known with his words just how annoyed he was that she had dared to ignore his suggestion of how to deal with the greeting knight, when he commented in their native tongue, "Yes...obey your brother..." 

Zara raised her right eyebrow as she gave her attention to Arkis, “I will obey my brother, and you will obey me. That is the order of things, boy.” She emphasized the word boy of course, making it clear that he had overstepped his boundaries in front of the rest of their men and servants. 

It was one thing in private to be bold with one’s tongue, it was another to do so on a public stage.

Someone would be helping to clean up the camel dung this evening, and their name began with the letter A.

Cubanwriter

Longshot

The camel train, escorted by Sir Lardin, proceeded across the lush Mindolin landscape throughout the day.  Occasionally, Zaiden noticed the distant shapes of other Ram-Riders behind them.  They were trailing the group almost at the limits of sight.  He chose to believe that they were screening the rear to prevent anyone approaching the party.  Surely the Bryddians did not believe a small diplomatic party would be able to perform any appreciable harm.  And hopefully they realized Al-Ador would not risk war over a faux-diplomatic scheme to launch a petty attack against the Captain of the Mountain Guard.

No... their scheme was much grander in scope.

By the early afternoon, a new shape began to form on the horizon.  Not the tiny figures of Ram-Riders, but rather a major feature of the landscape.  It was a rocky hill, rising above the fields and farms.  Zaiden knew it, though he had never seen it with his own eyes.  Many books and stories centered around it.

The Blackfort.  More of a castle, now, and not the mere Fort it had once been.  Comprised of black rock quarried from the Black Mountains.  Strong stone, like granite, and difficult to break even with the strongest siege engines.

During the invasion fifty years ago, five-thousand men from Draavos had laid siege to the Fort.  They outnumbered the defenders ten-to-one.  Every week, the besieging army had launched an all-out assault,  Trebuchets hurled boulders, archers fired arrows while slingers hurled stones.  Grapnel ladders latched onto walls and bold warriors climbed up to do battle.  Not one attack managed to pass the outer walls.  The siege lasted for two months, and included eight attempts to storm the structure.  Then a relief force from Tomar broke the besieging army, forcing them to retreat. 

As much as the Draavosi had craved to take the Blackfort, it proved to be a nearly unassailable fortification.  It wasn't just the mighty Fort itself, but also the steep rocky hill it sat upon.  The spot had been well chosen.  Even if only a simple nobleman's mansion had stood at the summit, it would have been difficult to assail.  Zaiden was no military tactician, but he thought that if war came again to these lands, an invading army would do well to simply ignore the Fort, burn the farms, and continue on to claim the city at Brokewater Bay.

But now, for the first time, people from Draavos were gaining entry to the formidable Fort.  They had not needed to bring an army, or enact a siege.  No... a single scroll was their ticket to entry into a place that five-thousand soldiers had failed to take.

A long, winding stairway with a very gradual ascent was cut into the rocky hill, and was a gentle enough slope that the camels or horses might have managed it single-file.  But this was not their way into the fortification.  Instead, a huge crane hung over the outer wall, lowering a platform to the ground along a sheer slope.  Thick ropes, bigger around than a man's leg, were attached to the platform and each platform was big enough to take up horses and their riders four-at-a-time. 

The platform descended to the foot of the hill.  Their knight-escort boarded the platform with his great horned Mountain sheep, and Zaiden followed with his own camel, allowing his sister and the Sand Devil to do the same.  Zaiden looked up at the sheer altitude to which they would be lifted, and felt somewhat queasy at the thought of it.  This Fort, high upon the hill, stood higher than the tallest spires of Al-Ador.

Darklingfae

Longshot

Akris kicked a leg over his saddle and dropped lightly to the crane platform. He turned and looked at the twins. "Dismount...Your camels may panic when the platform starts moving...don't trust your reflexes on something we have never ridden before..." Akris moved around to stand beside their escort's mount. He glanced up at the armored rider and switched to his language.

"I asked my charges to dismount in case their animals don't care for the ride...do most animals handle this without training?" Akris was curious about this method of getting to the castle. Any intelligence he could gather was always useful, and he had to admit this damnable fortification would be more than even the current Draavosi military could handle...without some sort of advantage, of course

As the Blackfort got closer and closer, Zara couldn’t help but mentally note the irony of the current situation. Her people fought in vain to try and take the Castle. The soil fertile with the blood of their dead, a testimony to the failure that still stained the honor of her people to this day. All of that effort, resources and lives wasted, when all they needed to do was knock on the front door. 

Ironic that their first step to achieving the long sought after victory was stepping inside the Castle walls, something that they would be doing shortly. The years spent planning for this very moment, how she could hear the cheer of praise of her ancestors fill her ears and warm her heart.

"Dismount...Your camels may panic when the platform starts moving...don't trust your reflexes on something we have never ridden before..." Akris moved around to stand beside their escort's mount.

Zara frowned at Arkis, but she remained silent. Now was not the time to put up a fuss, she suspected that he had planned it that way. The last thing she would allow was for any kind of dishonor to her people in front of their enemy. The ego and pride of their foe would bring success to her people. 

She just spoke softly to Aghbar as she dismounted, and remained calm. Camels feed off people's emotions. If people panicked around them, they would follow suit. If people remained serene and tranquil they would remain the same. She stroked Aghbar’s head, and cooed in his ears, surely it wouldn’t take long on the contraption. 

Zara held no fear, her destiny had been written in the molten lava of the earth years ago. Her death was not foretold to take place here. She was confident in the Seer’s visions, and waited patiently for them to finally reach their destination, the place where their first page of their final chapter would be turned.

Cubanwriter

Longshot