Chapter Nine—A Lessening of the Tether

Six months ago…

Most excellent!

The sultan’s forces in the east were making good headway against the Darfurian king’s attempts to keep him out of his mountainous country. Once in, his troops would begin to lay waste to crop fields and livestock.

He would spread terror into the hearts of king Szehsu and his nobility and force them to capitulate in this war. Though somewhat unorthodox in his fighting, king Szehsu was much like the other kings he had forced to join to Abassir Empire.

Small-minded, obstinate and obsessed with self-rule

It was no matter.

“Explain,” he said to his military advisors.

They were on the upper floors of the palace below the dome. The area was a huge open space of tiles and pillars, providing Darius al Hassarani with beautiful views of Darshuun in a three-hundred-and-sixty degree vantage.

“The mountains are quite rugged, my lord,” his advisor said. “But with your goat battalion we have been making good progress against the defenders.”

“Why is it so slow?” he demanded.

He had three advisors here at the table, including his general Mushkah. His lesser advisors were in his throne room with the rest of his court.

Darius rarely brought others up here. This was his special place. Only specifically invited individuals were ever allowed.

“Fighting in these rugged hills and mountains is difficult,” the advisor explained, and Darius looked to his general, who nodded in agreement. “Our men have to fight from rock to rock, cliff to cliff and take each pass one after another.”

Darius nodded. The explanation was sound and his other advisors and his top general did not object. If he had to wait, he had to wait. This was the life of a leader at war.

Would that he had the powers to simply remake the lands as he saw fit. He was powerful, but he didn’t possess that kind of power.

As cool winds swept under the dome, something suddenly came over Darius. A subtle…

“My king,” Mushkah said. “Are you well?”

“I—“ he began, his hand to his temple.

Something is wrong, he thought. I feel my magic waning. How could this be?

It had been some decades, but where he had locked her, in that secret oasis with the seed of a powerful dungeon guardian, was secure. Safe.

The beast would have been a full adult now, its identity and mandate imparted to it when it was a mere egg would be its life’s calling.

The sorcerers made sure of that. Did they not?

The sultan was no expert in these matters. He wasn’t even a mage and neither did he possess ancient wisdom such as his secret council did.

“I am unwell,” he said. “General, see to these matters.” He gestured vaguely to the map and their plans, his ringed fingers glinting slightly in the low sunlight.

He left them there.

Never had he done such a thing since taking the palace—leaving others in his personal space.

But he wasn’t thinking straight. Something was wrong and it worried him. Darius had to convene his sorcerers so they could tell him what was happening!

Do I already know?

The last time he saw those old sacks was nearly fifteen years ago. His doubts assailed him. The Sultan had to be certain, so he would meet with his sorcerers tonight and have them tell him.

Then he would take immediate action if necessary.