Chapter Fourteen—The Hajja Sorcerers

The Scorpion Guard was not actually Darius’ devoted body guard. Only the elite of that elite unit served as his personal protectors.

In truth, the Scorpion Guard comprised the most elite portion of his armies. They were highly trained warriors, assassins, tacticians and even mages—some of which fell into the more occult and mysterious sorcerer class.

If such a thing could truly even be classified.

The palace, an open and breezy structure of domes and turrets, was, in normal circumstances, an easily breathable series of structures with open colonnades and terraces, but with the so many of the Scorpion Guard about, it was a veritable fortress.

These Scorpion Guard members inside the palace were not the elite warriors of Darius’ army, but rather in inner sanctum of their most skilled warriors—the Scorpion Blades.

As Darius personally escorted the six Hajja sorcerers from the Mount Hajjaru temple, he made certain that they would see the veritable army of black guards with him.

Wearing their black pantaloons, upturned shoes and tight jackets revealing the bare skin of their shaved chests, the Scorpion Guard and the Scoprion Guard Blades were easily recognizable forces, as Darius had intended them to be.

They struck fear into the hearts of the sultan’s enemies.

Even the Hajja sorcerers.

As he walked ahead of the old lizard men, he thought, Surely they could kill a great deal of my guard, but not all of them.

They would eventually fall.

Sorcerers wee typically advanced conjurers of the more arcane arts of divinization, poisons and trickery.

Even though they often possessed knowledge of highly destructive magicks. they were not warriors.

They came to the upper citadel, often called the Sultan’s Citadel or the Domed Citadel—the personal space of Darius. It was completely open, save for the pillars supporting the highest dome of the palace.

A settee had been prepared and a brazier of fire and coals.

The wind up here was a welcome relief from the summer heat as the sheer blue silk curtains fluttered in the breeze.

Scorpion Guard members stood at attention, their scimitars, spears and other weapons at the ready. They could be easily seen interspersed between the pillars on the outer edges of the citadel.

Darius wanted to make a show of force to these arrogant sorcerers. If they thought he had entered into their domain when he had joined them atop their mountain before—it was clear now that they were within his domain.

Walking to the brazier in the center of the space, Darius removed his coat, revealing his bare back and chest. His purple silk pantaloons shimmered in the light of the fires as he took of his gold-pressed sandals.

“You have no doubts as to why I have summoned you here,” he said. “I am in need of your assistance. My jinni has been lost to me.” He lifted the cloth covering the lamp. “There is no stirring of her spirit within.”

The lead sorcerer from before—the one that had bitten into his neck—hissed, “Haasssss sheeeee beeeen losssst to the voiiid?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Darius knew their visages—that of old men with skin so thin they looked like they might crack and leak their blood until death—was nothing more than a sorcerer’s illusion.

These “men’s” true appearances were that of white lizards with red eyes and tongues. Devil’s spawns if ever Darius saw one.

Looking at all of them in turn, he then said, “You will assist me in guiding her back to her domain.”

For a long time, none of them said anything.

Darius flicked his eyes to his mage in the distance. Kahnassi was a powerful battle mage. If these snake fiends decided not to obey him—or to cause him harm—he would have them destroyed.

Finally, the lead sorcerer nodded, saying nothing at all.

“Very well,” Darius said. Then feeling somewhat inadequate, and damn the gods for this, he added, “I do not know of the necessary ingredients you require for this ritual. Tell me and I will have them brought forth at once.”